


Masquerades

by Gabriels_Mourning



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arwen - Freeform, Bracelet Theory, F/M, Merlin turns into a BAMF towards the end, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Started off as Cindarella, mergana - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:12:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriels_Mourning/pseuds/Gabriels_Mourning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana and Morgause plan to sneak in Cenred's army during a masquerade ball that Morgana has organised to avoid suspicion by covering everyone's faces.  Except that our favourite Warlock can sneak in that way too.<br/>Cinderella theme challenged by Mango22, hope this works.<br/>Merlin is both Cinderella (genderswapped) and his own fairy godmother...  I hope he's secure in his sexuality...  Sorry Merthur fans, this is strictly Mergana.  With some Arwen.  And some bromance, given that Arthur shows concern for Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mango22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mango22/gifts).



> In searching for the quote to start this and set the mood, I came across some lines that were so perfectly Mergana that I couldn’t help but put them in. I want so badly for them to be mine, but they’re not, and we’re on this site because an artist should always receive their due. We paint and sculpt with words and we do so no less passionately than any other artist. So for their lines, I thank George MacDonald, although he’ll never read their context here, and John Steinbeck, because he loved Merlin as we do, even if in a different context also. If you look really closely in that first scene, you’ll see a little nod to one of my favourite movies, even if it was the first movie to make me cry like a drama queen. (I’m comfortable admitting that, it’s manly up to a point…)  
> Please save the criticisms of "Oh, come on, it was so obvious who the knight was!" until after you read the whole story. We, as readers, are privy to details that our characters are not...
> 
> This story was inspired by several things, firstly another story I wrote that was a bit more on the fluffy side, and also I have to admit by a particular scene in Labyrinth. Given that it’s a Masquerade themed story, I’m sure you can follow here. The fun part was making Merlin Cinderella... of sorts, which is completely Mango22’s fault. 
> 
> If you don’t like it, "blame the Mango." (I’m getting tee shirts made up). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, comments and kudos always appreciated...

_**“One day you wake up and realize the world can be conquered... I'm going to put a mask on and scrawl my name across the face of the world, build cities of gold, come back and stomp this place flat, until even the bricks are just dust. So you can just shut up. All of you. I'm going to move the world.”** _

_**\- Austin Grossman, SOON, I WILL BE INVINCIBLE** _

* * *

* * *

 

∞  Ŧ  ∞

The tree was beautiful, but of course it was.  It rose majestically out and over the small shoreline, sheltering the grove in which Merlin worked.  He tingled with the magic that was flowing through him, whispered words of magic that enflamed and protected.  Dragonfire melted the sands along the lines of the wooden gifts the Rowan Tree had given him.  The wood protected his heart and chest, curled around his hips and down his legs.  Smooth, natural curves spread from his shoulders and out to his arms, and Merlin could barely appreciate it.  The Dragonfire flare and melted the sand which scattered along the white shores, bringing it to molten red head and dripping it onto the wood, which did not sear.  Sand melted to glass, which slid along the wood and seamlessly bonded with it, until the suit was complete.  Merlin looked over to Kilgarrah, but the old Dragon’s face was unreadable, as always.  He looked back and took a breath, trying to calm the raging storm of magic that swirled around him.  He reached into the grab the handle that would form the pommel as the glass began to shine.  The water from the lake of Avalon flowed to his touch and slid between it, the sudden hiss of the steam somehow not shattering the glass, but as a living layer between it, deep and blue like the sunlit ocean.  Merlin looked back at Kilgarrah again, and the great dragon breathed out slowly, and then nodded slowly, granting his silent support.  Merlin turned back to the armour he’d created and took a couple of quick, steadying breaths.

“I pledge my strength and my will to the Old Religion.  I am a Knight of Avalon Shore.  I claim my right by birth of Dragon Lord.  Sæceosel fram Avalon…  Sigeméce ic fram Rowan.  Spéonnen il heoloþhelm. Draca beorncyning wece!”

The last ended in a shout, and the magic staggered around him.  Merlin shook with the forces of the magic swirling through him.  Kilgarrah pushed up onto his hind legs in alarm and hissed.

“ ** _Concentrate, Merlin.  This will all be for naught if you cannot meld it.  Use your passions, young warlock, your strength lies there!”_** Merlin gritted his teeth and thought of everything that he’d lose if he didn’t manage to get this completed.  It hung there for a moment and he felt blood running down his nose and over his lip.  His head throbbed wickedly and pounded as he felt powerful energies roiling against the solid containment of the armour.  He dashed the blood away and fell to one knee, his hand stretched out.

“Draca beorncyning wece.  Draca beorncyning wece!  DRACA BEORNYCING WECE!”  His thunderous voice snapped out in a thick timbered command, and the armour burst into gold and blue light, coalescing into a full suit of armour and a sword of incredible beauty in front of him.  The lights splayed out even as the darkness crashed deeply into him and Merlin collapsed, barely registering the gold flash of Kilgarrah’s paw as they reached for him.  Before the dragon safely caught him, he was unconscious.  Kilgarrah stared in awe at the armour, which flowed into the sword like water, and then down at the warlock in his paws. 

“Merlin… what have you done?”

∞  Ŧ  ∞

Merlin opened his eyes slowly, feeling as though he were recovering from another one of Gwaine’s friendship trails, or “benders” as he called them.  He was warm and exhausted, utterly drained to be honest, but he could hear the driving rain smashing down around him.  He wasn’t wet, and a shudder beneath him filled the air with the coppery scent of dragon scale.  Kilgarrah raised his head and unfurled his wing to shelter the warlock.  Merlin nodded his thanks and looked back at the altar, where only the sword stood.  It had worked perfectly   The glass and polished deep roasted browns of the wood melded with blue light.  Across the pommel was the design of the helm, a dragon’s visage with fangs securing a face mask of swirling blue glass like an ocean’s whirlpool.  The eyes were tiny sapphires or deep blue glass, he wasn’t sure.  But it was beautiful.  His hand moved over the pommel and he gripped the sword and held it aloft.

 **“Ámundian”** The blade flared in his hand, and the armour flowed out, over his skin like water down a stone wall.  It flowed about his limbs and then another flare of deep blue power as the armour draped over his body, the helm settling on his head.  The dragon’s maw was spread wide around his face, but the solid strip of dark blue glass across his eyes meshed with the glass that somehow drew across his mouth in a swirling mix of blues and greens.  He moved his body, swinging the sword and twisting around, but the armour was so well fitted to his body that it didn’t pinch or mar his movement.  It was so light it should not have been worth the time it took to speak of it.  Merlin eyed the dragon and put the sword over his back, where it hung on a pair of small jutting pins. 

“Hit me?”  His tone was cautious and Kilgarrah gave a deep laugh.  He tapped gently on the chest, and the glass sounded solidly.  He scratched a claw down the front and neither the wood nor the glass scored.  Kilgarrah’s eyes narrowed and his tail switched like a cat’s, slamming into Merlin and driving him back.  Merlin wobbled on his feet and then twisted, falling and bouncing back up again with a laugh. 

“Fantastic!”  He looked at himself and then at Kilgarrah.  “Yeah, no?  Too Knightly?”  Kilgarrah looked up into the raining night sky. 

“There was a time, young Merlin, when the deeds of a knight were of far greater note than his apparel.”  Merlin released the magic and the armour flowed back off his head and then down his arm into the sword.  He looked around for a scabbard but he hadn’t thought to bring one, so he tucked it through the back straps of his ruck sack. 

“When was that?”  He made his way back to the fire that had forged the armour and held the dragon’s breath, stoking it up with the driftwood that they’d collected.  It was dry and caught quickly, but the burst of heat and light helped to keep the night at bay.  The dragon mused on that, pursing his lips and closing his eyes for a long moment as the fire died down, beaten into dark smoulders by the sudden downpour of rain.  Merlin looked at his hands and rubbed them together, feeling the rawness and ache in his joints from the amount of power he’d channelled. 

“Oh, another life, another time.  When a Knight was one who took the old vows, and stuck to his code.  When Kings and Queens and Men meant nothing.  A Knight who strode upon the earth had bound his soul to the Old Code.  It was a glorious time, Merlin.  Then too, had Dragon’s almost breathed their last on the earth.  Then, too, Merlin, did the Dragon lords hold firm.”  Merlin stepped back in towards Kilgarrah’s side at the giant dragon’s nodded invitation, and the dragon draped his wing over, tucking his huge maw in to protect Merlin.  He breathed out slowly, lighting the small space with bursts of flame that kept away the dampness and dark of the night. 

“Knights didn’t always just belong to Camelot?”  The dragon chuckled.

“Oh, no, Merlin, most assuredly not.  In the time of the Old Code, any man could become a Knight, but the Oath they took gave their service to every child, woman and man that breathed, not simply to the will of a King or a Queen, or even a dragon.  They roamed the lands, upholding the Code and bringing justice and peace to all, those with magic and those without.  They made no distinction.”  Merlin sat down, resting his head against Kilgarrah’s flank. 

“What was the code?  I mean, the actual oath?”  The dragon smiled and closed his eyes.  The fire died and Merlin found he was warm and safe.  The heat in the dragon’s side soon dried his clothes and felt good on his aching muscles.  He was too tired to travel, but with some more rest it wouldn’t take long. 

“A Knight is sworn to Valour.  His heart knows only Virtue.  His Blade defends the Weak.  His Word speaks only Truth.  His Wrath undoes the Wicked.”  Merlin opened his eyes in the darkness.  He was thankful that the lack of light under the dragon’s wing hid his suddenly shining eyes.

“Why isn’t that in the Dragon lord’s Oath?  Not that I’d know, I suppose.”  Kilgarrah opened one eye and stared at Merlin, filling the darkness with the soft light of his magical gaze. 

“Your father never knew he had sired you until you came to him and told him.  That was beneath you, Merlin.”  Merlin turned his head away from the dragon’s unflinching gaze.

“I just don’t know what he’d think of me.  Every time I speak to you, I’m reminded that you probably know him better than I ever could.  Does that seem right to you?”  Kilgarrah opened his other eye and turned his head, considering as he looked at Merlin.  The rain trickled down his neck to pool under his spiked maw.  Merlin closed his eyes again.  “I think I’d give almost anything I had to see the world through your eyes, my friend.  Even just for a moment.  Do you ever wonder what it’s like, thinking like us, seeing like us?”  

Kilgarrah smiled then, and something bright and happy filtered into his eyes.

“Children, Merlin.  I’d like to see the turning of the world’s pages through the eyes of a human child.  Every day an endless summer of blue skies, every rainy day a chance to jump in puddles.  No fear, no wickedness, no hate.  To watch a weak child befriend another is the most beautiful of dreams.  Men hate and women scheme and dragons are bound by both, but a child, Merlin.  Oh, that would be such a wonderful gaze through which to see the world.”  Merlin nodded his head, and smiled to himself. 

“That it would.”  Kilgarrah took a deep breath again as he felt Merlin pat a hand onto his golden scales restlessly.

“Are you rested enough?”  Merlin nodded.

“When you’re ready.  We’ve enough time, the ball isn’t until tomorrow night.”  Kilgarrah’s toothy smile faded slowly.

“Morgana and Morgause will be ready, Merlin.  Will you?”  Merlin took another deep breath, filling his lungs with the Avalonian air and nodding. 

“I have to be.”

∞  Ŧ  ∞

Morgana sat upon the throne, a glass of untouched wine in her hand as she surveyed the revellers dancing in front of her.  Beside her, Uther sat guilelessly enjoying his forever refilling goblet as he stared out at the party.  The ball had been Morgana’s idea, but Uther had taken the idea as his own with only the minimalist of prompting.  Morgana tipped metal cup to her lips again and Uther clapped happily as the bards upped the tempo of the music and the hall filled with happy, naïve dancers.  The masks flowed about them, covering faces and forms so completely that she couldn’t tell who was who, but neither could either of the other Pendragons.  Her dress had taken Gwen weeks to prepare, sewing each individual crystal in until it was a work of pure artistry.  A loop of silk about her promise and index fingers joined with her thumb, holding a small fan of orchid petals, looping up her wrist and spreading across her body, draping silk off the small threads of wooden fibres, dressing her as a canvas upon which Gwen’s creation flowered, wrapping orchid vines from her arm across her shoulders to slide down her hip, scandalously sparing her left side, showing her toned ribs and creamy thigh.  Arthur had blanched at seeing her, and Gwen had blushed and smiled as he handed her a mask so that she might join the revellers.  Amongst the others, Morgause was present somewhere, and with her, Cenred’s men.  They had snuck in in twos and threes, until a force of roughly a hundred had gathered, more than a match for the handful of drunken, unarmed knights that would be in attendance with the king.  Morgana smiled into her wine as the music began again, slowing down to give the romantics a chance to forget their day and dance.  A dull ache settled into her chest and she tilted her mouth to her wine, drinking for the first time.  She looked over the rim of the shining silver goblet, hoping to catch a meaningful gaze from blonde tresses that might tell her Morgause was ready.  The crowd eddied for a moment, shuddering and then parting in front of her, drawing her eyes at the shimmering movement that stepped towards her.

His costume was a skilful union of glass and wood, the glass so darkly stained that the knight could have been naked underneath it and nothing could be proven.  He was tall, rising above Arthur’s height despite the relative slim nature of his body.  The cool silver touched her cheek to press away the sudden blush as he came to a halt before her.  Dark blue glass covered his face, with a swirl of mixed blues and greens covering the lower half of his face.  She could make out a dragon motif encompassing the helm, but the two dark orbs of cobalt blue caught her attention and held it.  She could make out the eyes behind it, but what colour they were, she had no idea.  Her heart fluttered at the power she felt coming from him, as though his entire being hummed with magical power.  She swallowed slowly, and felt her breath heat her lips as she licked them and hid behind her silver goblet once again.  She snuck a glance at Uther, but he was looking at the knight with a wide smile.

“A memorable costume, Sir Knight.  I’m glad that you’ve delved so deeply into the spirit of the occasion.  Unlike some others.”  He flicked a glance at his son, who wore his usual chain mail but an overcoat of the church knights sigils instead of Camelot’s.  Arthur didn’t respond, but instead was looking at the stranger with interest.  The knight ignored him for long enough to bring a frown to the King and a thrilled gleam shone in Morgana’s eyes at his defiance of those that had wronged her.

“Forgive me, Lord of Kings, but I find myself lost… I came forwards to sally wits with the legendary Princess of Camelot, but I cannot.  I am unworthy.  A gift, then, for all that I am caught unawares.”  His voice was rich in timber, as though spoken from beneath a barrel chest, coming through his mask.  His hands came forwards and held a glass rose with a pink quartz polish to its petals.  She took the rose with a smile and waved it towards her face, in thanks, until the scent struck her.  She stared at him in shock.

“I can smell it.  It smells like a rose.”  Uther frowned and leaned forward to sniff at it also, before she could move it away.  His eyes darkened as the knight bowed low. 

“How is this done?”  The helm tilted as the knight studied the rose in Morgana’s hand.  He showed no fear at the King’s tone, and Morgana breathed shallowly in the sudden fear that his magic would be revealed.

“Expensively, Lord of Kings.  The glass is cheap enough, but the quartz must be polished to perfection to be worthy.  It serves as a capsule to hold an ounce of rose oil.  Sadly, the rose will lose its scent in than a thousand days, but surely a thousand days of admiration are more than the week which would be held were they brought from a garden alone.”  Uther stared at the knight and then looked down at the quartz rose. 

“You must tell me the name of your artisan, Sir?”  The figure tilted his masked features and she could see the bright wide smile beneath the swirling glass plate.

“My lord would have me ruin the Lady Morgana’s Masquerade Ball?  If your majesty wishes, of course…”  Uther looked down at Morgana’s wide eyes and open, smiling mouth.

“Well played, sir knight.  Simply send the man to me on the morrow.”  The knight bowed deeply again and turned his mask once more to Morgana.  Her bare arm rose and she held out her hand, palm up softly as she cupped her hands, inviting his touch.  The gauntlet came warm into her hands and he helped her down from her throne.  They made their way out to the dance floor under Arthur’s suspicious gaze.  Morgana held her bared left arm aloft, the gold bracelet shining in the multitude of flickering candles that hung from the ceiling and brightened the room.  The knight flicked his deep blue cape behind him and copied her gesture as he gravely bowed over her hand.  Morgana curtsied low with the grace of a born dancer and her partner rose, lifting her hand.  Gamely, he entwined his fingers with hers, but she didn’t shun.  A smile devoid of anything but simple happiness came to her face.  They danced for minutes until the music swelled and she twisted to the left.  Instead, he was on the right, and they collided with a shudder.  Morgana felt the pulse of his heartbeat hammering through the glass, and stared up into the mask.  The power contained in the armour staggered her, reaching out to senses she didn’t know she had and telling her unequivocally that this was a creation of magic. 

“My apologies, my Lady,” he murmured as he stared into her eyes. “I… have ever felt the lash of my tutor’s tongue for my failures at that turn.”  Morgana licked her lips and looked away. 

“Forgive me, also,” she intoned, lifting her free hand to her forehead.  “Too much wine, and too many candles.  I fear the bodice required for this particular dress leaves little room to breathe.”  He lifted her hand and bowed again, before leading her towards the balcony and opening the door through which he guided her. 

“I’m sure your seamstress only meant to show the world your perfection.”  The door closed behind them and they were alone.  Morgana turned, steel in her eyes.

“Who are you?  Are you a druid?”  The knight turned back to the closed glass and stepped back from her, giving her space.  She let go of his glass covered fingers and curled her hand together.  Her chest heaved in the heat of her anger and he remained steadfastly fixed on her face.  Her lips were parted and full, and he found no solace there in those dark eyes. 

“Your sister is not far.”  Morgana flinched for a moment, her eyes searching his faceplate before they flicked back to the doors that led back into the Great Hall.

“You’re with us.”  She seemed to deflate, her shoulders sagging, and the knight stepped closer to her.

“I am not.  I am for you.”  Her pale green orbs lifted to him and she flicked her dark, loose hair to the side.  The ringlets swung heavy, and took his breath away.

“For me?” she clarified, her eyes searching. 

“Morgause didn’t send me.  I’m here for you.  I am a sworn Knight of Avalon.”  Morgana stared at him before she moved back a step, separating them again.

“Your duty is to the High Priestess.  Morgause.”  The knight’s head wilted and he stepped to her side, holding her hands in his.  The glass and wood melted away into his wrists, and she stopped as the sudden warmth of his hands.  He stared at them as if shocked, and clasped their hands to his chest.  She could feel his heartbeat, strong and heavy through the chest plate.  She spread her hands out in wonder and the beat quickened. 

“Morgana… this is important.” 

“Hmm.”  She looked up into his helm and caught at his eyes through the dark glass.  With the light shining from behind him, she could see how wide his eyes were.  There was an intense feel to him, as though he was desperate to talk to her, but she was drawn somewhat to him regardless.  He was filled with power, but she knew beyond reasoning that he wouldn’t harm her. 

“Swear, and I’ll listen.”  The knight’s head moved and the eyes narrowed darkly.  Morgana lurched back, stung suddenly by the sudden familiarity in that gaze. 

“You have my oath already.”  She stared at him, willing her mind or her magic to clear his mystery.  The glass at his face shimmered and rippled like water. 

“Swear you speak only truth and will not harm me.”  The knight looked around desperately and the ripples smoothed out back into glass.  Morgana licked her lips as she stared at him, drawn by the power he was withholding, and the knight’s thin fingered hands tightened on hers, interweaving.  He stared at her desperately, and behind the glass she could see his mouth suddenly clench.

“I will do you no harm.  But I fear the truth will cause you hurt.  We’re running out of time.”  Morgana’s dark green eyes flashed and she could feel his heat through his armour, as though it took only her eyes to enflame him.  She twisted her mouth alluringly and felt him respond.  This knight wanted her, wanted her with a heat she could feel through the magic of his armour.  His will was powerful, but she was breaking it.  She stepped up and kissed the glass faceplate, which melted away at her touch as she pressed forwards, joining them.  The lips she kissed were soft and stunned, awed not simply at the kiss but at her gentleness.  His mouth tasted of a buttery sweet cream, a caramel that rolled on her tongue and brought an unabashed heat to her spine.  His hands gripped her hair and held her as though his passion was a demon released and he kissed her.  He was gentle and yet somehow his desire exploded against her, filling her and tearing at her.  Their tongues wrestled against one another and Morgana surged up into him, pulling him down with all of her strength as she urged him against her.  He pushed suddenly, grinding her against the stone battlements as she moaned into his mouth and lost herself in the power of his desire for her.  They parted slowly, lingeringly, until he stared at her and she at him.  He sought words but couldn’t find them, pressed against her.  Morgana leaned back, feeling his strength surround her as his arms lifted to her shoulders, holding her to him gently.  There was a sudden awkwardness to his stance that again screamed familiarity to her. 

“Speak any truth you may have for me then, sir Knight.  I have been hurt before, and I’m still here.”  He turned away, suddenly holding her hands to his bared lips. 

“Oh, Morgana… your past tears are your present strength.  That is who you are.”  It was a powerful whisper, carrying her unopened hurt to her soul and smoothed a  salve for the ache that she’d carried for so long she had forgotten to live without its pain.  Morgana stared at him, willing the helm to melt away as the faceplate and gauntlets had done. 

“Who are you, who pledges his soul to me? Who wears the armour and cowl? I know you, don’t I? Who are you, my Poet Knight?”  He stared at her and his lips worked before the faceplate came back.  A second’s later, his hands hardened again as the glass flowed over them and he was fully armoured against her.

“I am known to you.  I… am he who loves who you once held the promise of being.  It is for her that I break all that I am against the cliffs of your bitterness.”  Morgana felt her eyes water for the first time in her recent memory. 

“Why do y… is it wise to say such things to one that you believe will hurt you still?”  She lifted her head just slightly, indicating the armour that once again fully encompassed him.  The knight stared at her and she swore she could see tears fall to rim the glass under his eyes. 

“It is _because_ I am wise.  In the battle between wisdom and feeling, wisdom never wins.”  He touched her chin and tilted her head up again.  Struck by his words, Morgana stared up at him, again willing him to kiss her.  The glass rippled again as the door opened, blasting them with heat, air and noise.

“What do you think you’re…”  Arthur’s voice cut off as the sudden commotion in the hall cut short with screams.  Warriors filtered in, following behind a woman with long flowing black hair, longer and thicker than Morgana’s.  The woman ripped the hair and mask from her face and Morgause stood revealed, her sword drawn. 

“Pendragon,” she snarled, venom in her words.  Arthur drew his sword and lurched forwards even as some of his knights followed suit, rushing forwards to confront the beautiful blonde.  Uther stood up, drawing his sword and throwing away his wine cup. 

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Fate, Uther Pendragon.  You’ve poisoned this land for long enough!”  Arthur drew his own sword and makeshift weapons began appearing in the hands of the warriors that flocked to the King’s defence as they joined their prince.  Men bearing Morgause’s mark and Cenred’s colours flooded the room, discarding masks from the crowd and lining up behind the High Priestess.  Morgana looked to her sister, but her knight had other ideas.  He grabbed her arm and stabbed his suddenly drawn sword down her arm, lining it up with his thrust with a rough jerk that she somehow knew could have been much worse.  His sword descended towards her and she screamed.  The sword slid between her golden bracelet and her skin and shivered, sliding along her skin with the cold of Avalon’s lake.  Like a shockwave beginning at her knight’s chest and running down, a wave of power coalesced into the sword and the knight dropped to his knees as the bracelet burst, breaking apart and shattering.  It dispersed into black dust as Morgana felt a sudden weight lift from her.  She fell down and collapsed as Morgause called her name and stared, suddenly clear of mind for the first time she could remember. 

 Morgana’s knight ripped his cloak off and tucked it up under her chin, holding her in his fingertips for a moment as she shook her head mutely.

“For who you were.  And who you can be.”  Morgana stared at him as he strode out onto the floor of the great hall between the two opposing groups.  Morgause looked between Morgana’s stricken face and Uther’s intense frown before she turned back to the knight. 

“You.  You are kin to me.  I can sense your power, thick around you like fog.  Stand with us, against this magic hating tyrant.  Help me kill Uther, and whatever you desire is yours.”  Uther gave a growl and Arthur paled as the knight spread his stance and turned his head, looking back to Morgana, who lay dazed against the stone of the battlements.  The other dancers, lords and ladies who were not warriors, fled behind the assembled might of Camelot’s defenders as his eyes roved over her, not in a lascivious way, but instead in awe.  He touched his hand to his lips and then his heart, pushing it away from his chest toward her.  He held his other gauntleted hand up and the candles flared in the room, rising up and filling the air above his fingertips.  He bowed to Morgause and her triumphant smile was sick with a desperate hope.  The knight breathed slowly for several seconds before turning back around and nodding to Arthur, just once.  Arthur grinned suddenly and held his sword aloft. 

“For the love of Camelot!”  The glass knight turned, drawing his sword from its place over his shoulder and swinging it around his head, spreading the swirling flame in front of him like a wave of pure force.  Morgause cursed and held up both of her hands, spreading the flame wall over her troops, up and away from them.  Her fighters blanched, but the knights of Camelot did not.  Arthur and the knight of glass charged side by side, swords aloft.  Morgause flicked her cape over Arthur’s face and smashed him with her pommel, before clearing the clinging fabric with a shrug of her shoulders.  The glass knight didn’t let her press her advantage over Arthur, but instead swung his sword around, following up with a hard fist that clipped her kidneys.  He moved so quickly and with such strength that she was soon backing up and twirling her sword to keep him at bay. 

“The iron in your countenance weakens your powers, Lady Morgause.”  She snarled at him wordlessly and held out a hand. 

“Forbærnan!” she snapped, her eyes flaring.  The armour flared a bright, dusty orange before the glass flared in its light, and the heat was gone in an instant.  The colour drained from her face and he touched the glass and wood blade to his helm. 

“Predictable.  Glass forged in a dragon’s breath can hardly be bothered with mere magefire.”  She clipped her sword overhand in a powerful cut, drawing back on the pommel with her fingertips to keep the blow in control. She threw the blade to him and he smashed it away with his own as the battle raged around them.  Morgause came in close as the knight moved his sword back to face her and ducked under his arm, putting both hands over his heart as her eyes glowed bright yellow with her power. 

“ ** _BRECAN_** ” she snarled, and the pulse of power exploded against the shielding of the glass armour.  It cracked for a moment, then healed, then cracked again as the knight collapsed.  His suddenly weak hands dropped his sword, which clattered to the ground with musical pain.  He sagged back onto his knees, his head tilted to the side as the armour tried to heal itself, sucking more power from him.  He coughed and blood dripped from the faceplate near his chin.  Morgause scrambled for her sword and whirled around, just as the knight’s hands closed about his own sword blade, near the hilt.  She swung mightily, hitting the helm and cracking it, sending shockwaves through the hall even as the knight surged upwards, stabbing the blade deep into her body.  Morgause shook her head and lifted her sword in her hands again, but they lost strength as a confused look came onto her face.  She looked down and changed her grip point down for more strength.  She spied a gap in the glass armour, showing a lock of black hair at the back and a red kerchief.  She smiled in disbelief and begun the downward stroke into the back of his neck and down his spine.  A pulse of power burst into her stomach along the length of the glass blade and she coughed, even as another blade struck hers and sent it skittering away.  Morgause blinked at her empty gloves and stared at Arthur, who was standing with levelled sword against her. 

“Yield!” he roared, but she didn’t hear him.  He was standing there, surrounded by enemies that were fighting to kill him, and he wanted her to yield.  Silly boy, she though, even as she began to fall backwards.  She didn’t feel the ground, but the sword stood straight up, even though it had been struck into her at an angle.  That must have meant she was twisted, Morgause thought, lost in the cold that was rapidly enveloping her.  It can’t be, she argued against herself.  No mortal blade can kill me.  I’m a High Priestess.  But it was no use arguing.  She was already dying.

Arthur looked around, evaluating the fight.  As more and more of her men noticed that Morgause had fallen, they were breaking away and running.  He looked behind him, to the kneeling figure of the sorcerer knight that had saved them. 

“Run, my friend.”  The helm tilted up to him and he could see that behind the glass, the eyes were white and wide. 

“For what you’ve done, I’m telling you to run.  Because for who you are, my father will kill you.”  The knight struggled to his feet and wavered.  Arthur reached out and held him steady by the forearm.  “And thank you.  Morgause has beaten me before.  I don’t know how else to thank you.”  The knight staggered and held his side, where Arthur could see cracks in the armour and blood pooling near his hip.  More dripped from his faceplate, turning the swirling blues and green into macabre purples. 

“Be a good man,” the knight urged.  “Everything else… will fall into place.”  The rich timbre of his voice cracked too, and a much lighter voice finished the second sentence.  It sounded strange through the glass pane, but Arthur felt a chill down his spine as the voice tugged at something in the back of his mind.  He grabbed at the sword and lurched away, beginning a run amongst the others of Cenred’s former soldiers that had fled.  Arthur shifted the grip on his sword and leant down to Morgause, who was breathing shallowly.

“Sound off!” he called.  His other knights called out to him as the last of the soldiers ran, with more reinforcements arriving from the guard of Camelot, attracted by the noise and calls of alarm. 

The battle was over.

∞  Ŧ  ∞

Merlin gasped the cold night air in as he clattered across the courtyard, and towards the fountain.  He ducked his head in and gulped huge mouthfuls of cold water before collapsing against the stones.  He looked up towards the balcony where Morgana lay, but couldn’t hear either battle or her.  He was losing too much blood, and needed to stop it.  He’d come through the western halls, past the armoury, where years ago Gilli had saved him.  He laughed weakly and put a hand to his side, where he could feel the glass cutting into him.  He knew he was dangerously weak, but he’d be weakly dead if he didn’t stop the bleeding.  Like Gilli had.  He closed his eyes. 

 _“Þurhhæle licsar min.”_   His power flared and the glass fell away from him, flowing back into the sword in his grip and leaving him suddenly exhausted.  The flare died and he could feel the tenderness of healed flesh around the hot scorched stone under him.  Merlin panted to get his breath back and scrambled to his feet again, slightly stronger but also vastly weaker.  He was going to pass out.  He looked back up at the balcony and locked eyes with Morgana, who stared down at him in shock as she held the cloak around her shoulders that he'd given her.  Merlin shook his head as his eyelids fought to close and rolled over, clattering the sword with a ringing call.  He used the sword to lever himself up and then looked up again as he staggered across the courtyard.  The balcony was empty.  Merlin began to shake as the cold suddenly set in, and he ducked around the corner as a squad of guards came up to the fountain.  He flitted away into the night as he’d done so many times before.  After a few minutes, he was easing the door to Gaius’s office open, and then through his own door.  He pried the floor stone up and pushed the book to the side, sliding the sword in under the next stone almost horizontally.  He shoved the floor stone back into place and crawled forwards, but only just managed to drag himself into the bed.  He began to shake and couldn’t stop as his body gave out, and everything went black. 

∞  Ŧ  ∞

Arthur draped his cloak over Morgause and noted her pale complexion.  The cloak stuck to her stomach and her eyelids battered.  Morgana stepped up out of sight and put her hand on her brother’s shoulder.  He looked at her and shook his head.  She knelt down, pulling her sister’s face across to look into hers.  Morgause’s eyes flickered open, and she smiled weakly.

“My sister.  You loved me, really, didn’t you?”  Morgana’s eyes shifted to her wrist, then to her dying sister’s face. 

“I did.  You can go to rest, Morgause.  I’ll be okay.”  She put her hand to her blonde sister’s ashen face. 

“I… I thought I’d see things.  But all I’ve known is…  this.  I don’t even have any memories of peace.  I’ve been at war my whole life.  I don’t… understand any of this… anymore.”  She faded off and her eyes slowly widened.  Morgana bit her lips and the tears fell.  She nodded and reached up, closing Morgause’s eyes with her fingertips and not sobbing, but feeling broken and crying silently.

“I forgive you, Morgause.  You needed me, like no one else ever did.  Sister.  I should have shown you happiness, and light.  Instead, you showed me hate and darkness.  I hope you can forgive me.  I should have been better for you.”  Arthur hugged her solemnly, his strength sustaining her for a moment in which she sorely needed it.  Uther’s stern footfalls sounded, and his harsh voice echoed throughout the hall. 

“Leave us.  Ensure the rabble are driven from the castle.”  He looked at Arthur, his face still full of rage as the warriors filed out to flush the remains of Morgause’s men out of the inner city grounds.  “The knight in the glass armour?  The sorcerer?”  Arthur turned his head over Morgana’s and stared at his father, whose gaze softened under his son’s judgement as he looked at Morgana. 

“Escaped, father.  The men won’t find him, I’ll wager.  I doubt they’ll look too hard.  He defeated Morgause and saved my life.  I think that earns him a day’s reprieve.”  Uther scoffed and Morgana lifted her eyes to him.  He immediately softened and opened his mouth before closing it again as he caught her tears.

“We have a lot to talk about, Father.”  He nodded slowly and Arthur turned.  He covered Morgause up with his cloak and sighed, subdued.  “And you, Arthur.  Thank you.  For all that she did, you could have cut her down.  It was worse than you could have imagined.  But she just wanted someone to share her pain with.”  She looked down at her wrist, and the burn scar where the bracelet had exploded.  She looked back up to Uther, whose temper was strangely subdued.  “I want to tell you something, too, Father.  It’s about Merlin.”

∞  Ŧ  ∞

“He’s in an induced coma, my lord.  I found him here, and the body of one of the soldiers.  The silly fool tried to fight the soldier off, it seems.  Your men came and collected the soldier’s body already, I believe.  You’ll have to ask Arthur.”  Uther turned around, squinting at the light that shone brightly through the small window into Gaius’s lab, turning the scene bright orange from the dying light of the day..  Arthur shook his head uncertainly.

“I’m still getting the details together, Father.  There’s been two dozen little scuffles or so, it’s hard to keep track, once all the soldiers went to ground.  There could be some still in Camelot, trying to get out for all we know.  I’ll get onto it.”  Uther waved a hand dismissively and turned back to Gaius. 

“When he wakes, I want to see him.  As soon as is decent.”  Gaius bowed low and inclined his head to Arthur, who nodded.  Uther took another glance through Merlin’s open door to where Merlin lay on his bed.  Finally he nodded and turned to leave.  Arthur let him go past before stepping closer to Gaius. 

“Is it serious?”  Gaius smiled to him, thankful for his concern. 

“Precautionary, your Highness.  He was quite twisted when I found him, and I feared that he’d suffered a spinal injury, which can be very dangerous if you move about.  Merlin’s not the most coordinated of us, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, my lord.  I thought it best to keep him confined to his chambers for the moment.  I’ll notify you first when he wakes up.”  Arthur gave what was supposed to be a reassuring smile and patted Gaius on the shoulder. 

“Thank you Gaius.  If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate.  He’s… earned our care and appreciation.”  Gaius bowed again and Arthur turned, almost knocking Gwen over as she rushed in. 

“Oh, Prince Arthur, I...”  She ducked her head low so that he wouldn’t see her sudden blush as his arms steadied her.  Arthur’s lips pursed as he smiled and tried to speak.

“Not at all, I should have… that is, my apologies, G-uh-Gwenev-um, Gwen.  Gwen.”  She tilted her head to the side and smiled secretly to him.  Arthur smiled back. 

“Did I come at a bad time?”  He shook his head, bemused at her beauty. 

“You’re never a bad time.”  She widened her eyes looked away.  Arthur began to stammer.

“I meant that when you’re around that it’s a good time.  That you’re not an inconvenience.  Never an inconvenience.  Welcome any time, I mean.  Here.”  She smiled again, laughing at him silently.  Arthur felt himself charmed and ruefully shook his head. 

“You’ve brought me flowers because you feel sorry that I’ve lost the ability to speak.”  He pointedly looked at the small bunch of flowers she held in her hand and she laughed softly.

“These are for Merlin,” she corrected.  Arthur’s face clouded for a moment before shook himself. 

“Of course.  A lovely idea.”  She squeezed passed him through the doorway that he was blocking and breathed a little deeper through her open mouth when she was against him, and Arthur burned deep red and straightened his clothing. 

“Actually, they’re not from me.”  Arthur’s sudden smile broke away as she admonished him with a glare.  “Though if I’d thought of it, I’d have been glad to be such a friend.”  His confusion was almost comical as she brought them to her nose to hide her smile.  She’s always thought him cutest when he was confused. 

“They’re from the Lady Morgana.”  Arthur’s carefully neutral face brought a frown to Gwen’s face, but she nodded.  He looked thoughtful and bowed low to her, and then to Gaius in farewell.  The old physician smiled warmly at Gwen. 

“They’re lovely, Gwen.  I’m sure he’ll love them.”  She grabbed an empty glass and put some water in, before slotting the flowers in and moving them about, spreading them wide.  She put them on his bedside table and looked at the sleeping form of her friend.  Kindness and concern breached her features, and she leant down and kissed him on the forehead.  Gaius smiled at her. 

“You really are the most wonderful soul, Gwen.  I’m sure that Merlin will wake up and be most upset that he’s missed his dance lessons.”  She smiled at the old man and moved past him, heading for the door. 

“Yes, we still had trouble at that pivot, and my toes were getting sore.  I’m sure he’ll get it eventually,” she murmured, glancing at Gaius, then back at Merlin with a knowing smile.  “He’ll get better, Gaius.  He has to.”  She smiled winsomely, affecting a serious expression though still a trifle mocking.  “Camelot needs him.”  She waved goodbye and closed the door behind her.  Gaius turned back to the bed and sighed.  He hated lying to Uther and possibly getting Arthur into trouble, but for Merlin, it was worth the risk.  Gaius had no doubts about who the knight with the glass sword had been.  And how much energy it had cost him to do it.  Gaius settled in for the night and pulled his bed closer to Merlin’s room so he could hear him breathe should anything change.  He pulled the drapes across the darkened windows and blew out the candles save for the ones lighting the dinner table.  He would dine quickly and head to bed, hoping there was a change for the morning.  Merlin hadn’t even begun to stir, but his breathing was deep and even, thankfully.  Gaius frowned, still worried.  Draining that much magic and power from your body was beyond dangerous.  There was no telling what kind of effects it would have on him.  He stirred the pot of stew that warmed over the stove and sat back, putting his glasses on and stoking the fire.  Only time would tell, he mused as he stared out the window at the stars beginning to appear in the sky overhead.

∞  Ŧ  ∞

Merlin opened his eyes slowly, feeling how heavy his chest felt and stretching as though he hadn’t breathed deeply in a week.  The tightness in his chest gave way to a slow burn and he sighed.  He felt dreadfully weak, but the pain in his side was long gone.  He was in his own bed and there were flowers on his table.  He stared at them until a smile came to his face and he thought of Morgana.  The princess brought a smile to his face and he pushed himself up onto his bed with his elbows.  It was dark outside, with not even the moon to light his room.  He took another breath and frowned as he sat up.  There was a glass beside the flowers, full of water and he drank almost all of it.  A fresh sprig of mint sat beside two winter kisses, the cream caramel candies he favoured.  He stared at them and popped one into his mouth, savouring the sweet flavours that released as soon as it touched the moisture in his mouth.  Merlin’s eyes burned from tiredness and he rolled his neck.  The bone cracked loudly in his ears and he grabbed the glass to finish the rest of the water.

“Sleeping beauty awakens.”  He rolled over suddenly and Morgana gave a soft smile from her perch in his chair, wrapped up in the deep blue cloak she’d not taken off since he’d given it to her.  Her own eyes were heavily lidded, as he’d obviously woken her up.  Her hair was up , wrapped about her head in a thick ponytail as though for sleep.  Her kind eyes met his inquisitive ones and she folded her hands in front of her. 

“The kiss gave you away, Merlin.  Arthur’s forever grousing at you for those candies, saying they make any conversation he has with you seem like it’s taking place in a bee hive.  He clearly has never had a winter’s kiss, because caramel tastes nothing like honey.  But you could have gotten away with it, almost.  If you hadn’t hidden this in your room.”  She pulled the glass sword from behind the chair and held it up.  The magic lay dormant until she handed it to him, and then the blue pulsed up the sword and lit the small room.  “Gaius is asleep out there, Merlin.  I think it’s time for some honesty.  Or maybe, just for picking up where we left off.”  She rubbed her eyes tiredly, but Merlin was struggling into wakefulness. 

“I…”

“Hush, Merlin.  Not now.  Not tonight.”  She stood up and came to the bed, moving him over and laying him down, putting her had on his chest and pulling the covers up over them.  She laughed a little at his confusion.

“Tonight, we’ll sleep, my Knight.  And tomorrow, we’ll talk.  But right now…”  She pushed up his body, her hands on his naked chest and against his thin pants and she sighed in happiness.  She cradled his chin just as he’d done to her and kissed him softly.  Merlin’s hand slowly dropped, letting go of the sword, which flickered blue and then went dark, plunging the room into darkness. 


	2. The Choice of Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Glass Knight has vanished, and Merlin is slowly recovering.   
> But there's a battle taking place on top of the eggshells that everyone has been dancing on.   
> Morgana's fragile fealty to Uther and Camelot after her return to herself is tested, and Arthur has to face the responsibility of killing Merlin.   
> Did I just write that? Is that a spoiler? ;)

Merlin woke slowly, feeling the sun warming him through the window.  His stomach’s growl was what woke him, he thought, but then he remembered what had happened during the night.  He quickly tilted his head, but he was alone in the sheets.  He inhaled deeply, but couldn’t smell Morgana’s light, intoxicating scent, only the cloying scent of the flowers.  He blinked and looked around the room, but he was truly alone.  There was a haze to his vision and he brought a hand across his eyes and groaned as his head began to throb. 

The latch on his door sounded and a welcome, familiar voice greeted him. 

“My boy, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you awake.”  Gaius sat down on the edge of his bed, his brown robes rustling about him as he put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder.  “You gave us all quite a scare.  How are you feeling?”  Merlin closed his eyes, and then opened one away from the glare of the window.

“Famished and exhausted.  But alive, I guess.  What happened?”  Gaius frowned at him and reached for the empty glass sitting beside the flowers.

“You don’t remember?  You nearly drained yourself completely.  It was very risky.”  Merlin nodded to himself, lifting his arms into his shirt, then blanching and putting his arms down again.  Gaius nodded rather pointedly.

“You’ve been lying here shivering for two days, sweating a great deal.  I’m sure you’ll want to bathe before you present yourself to the king.”  Merlin frowned again and shook his head, trying to clear it.  He instantly regretted it and swayed.  Gaius reached out and steadied him with a warm hand.  Merlin swallowed and took a breath slowly before nodding that he was alright.

“Did it work?  Did we defeat Morgause and Morgana?”  Gaius frowned, but he affirmed the question with a grave nod. 

“Indeed.  Morgause is dead and Morgana… the Princess is very very different.  You broke her bracelet and removed whatever dark magic Morgause had infused it with.  It’s as if the child had never left.  What do you remember?”  Merlin ran a hand over his hair, feeling the greasy strands muss out atop his head. 

“It was like a dream, Gaius.  I felt so powerful, so sure.  It was…”  He raised his eyebrows and blew out a breath as he tried to find the words.  “It was like everything I’d wanted to be.  I felt like a super version of me, like a knight in the old stories, but invincible.”  His eyes widened.  “That’s what it felt like, Gaius, like I was invincible.  I was confident, strong, like I was a total… match for Arthur.”  Gaius’s wise eyes considered that as Merlin looked about the bed. 

“You certainly made an impression.  As the Knight of Avalon.  As Merlin, you’ve been summoned to appear before the King himself.”  Merlin cast a guilty glace at his mentor.

“That’s bad, isn’t it?  You’ve mentioned it twice in as many minutes, so it must be bad.”  Gaius smiled. 

“If Uther had wanted you dead, he simply could have dragged you out of your bed by the hair and thrown you on the pyre.  I don’t know what it’s about, but it’s best not to keep the king waiting.”  Merlin nodded and went to put on his shirt again. 

“Merlin, trust me.  It’s better if you postpone long enough to bathe.” Merlin took a breath to argue before regretting that choice and nodding his acquiescence.  Gaius left the room to put some water to boil over the stove and fetched some soap and water.  Merlin pulled fresh, clean clothes from the wardrobe and twisted, looking at his ribs.  A faint, pink cast to his left side was all that remained of his encounter with Morgause.  He looked at his right side, but all that lay there were two parallel scratches that could have been from anything.  His mind went to what had happened last night and his breath caught.  It could have been fingernails.  His foggy mind conjured up images of Morgana’s alluring smile moaning quietly against his mouth and he cleared his throat. 

“Gaius… was… did… was someone here?”  The old physician tilted his head back around the corner and indicated the flowers by his bedside. 

“Gwen called by.  Sweet child, she dropped off some flowers, hoping you’d feel better.  From the Lady Morgana, I believe.  She would have stayed, but Arthur was here, being a nuisance on your behalf.” 

“Morgana was here…?”  He trailed off as he realised how yearning he’d sounded.  Gaius shook his head. 

“Gwen was here, dropping them off on Morgana’s behalf, and bumped into Arthur.  Are you alright, Merlin?”  The warlock smiled winsomely, trying to figure out if the images in his head were memories or fantasies.  He pushed his clothing in front of him, realising with a start that he was only wearing thin pants.  He turned away from Gaius and looked at the flowers again.  And the empty space beside them.

“Did you eat my sweet, Gaius?  I remember there being two…”  He trailed off as the physician harrumphed and came back into his room to open the window.  Blessed fresh air began to come in as Merlin ruefully nodded.  “Bathing.  Right.”

“I certainly didn’t eat it, Merlin.  You know how I hate those things you make.”  Merlin gave a quietly considerate sound.  “Wash, then eat something real that’s not full of cream and sugar.  You have an appointment with the King as soon as you’re able.  I still have to take you through everything that’s happened in the meantime so you don’t give yourself away to Uther.”  Merlin glanced back and nodded as he looked at his bed wistfully.  “Are you going to be able to meet him and not do something stupid?”  There was care and concern in his tone even as he smiled and teased.  Merlin didn’t smile though, as he dragged himself away from the bed, the profound sadness burgeoning in his eyes as he threw the clothes on the bed and pulled the floor stone up under the bed.  The shining hilt of the wooden glass sword sparkled in the sunlight at him.  Gaius dropped the steaming bucket of water he was carrying into the basin and stopped as he put it down again.  Merlin stared at the beautiful hilt of the sword with a heartbreaking loneliness in his eyes.  He caressed the hilt and Gaius frowned.

“You look like you didn’t want to see it again, Merlin.”  The warlock roused himself and pushed the stone back into place.  His fingers lingered on the edges of the stone.

“Not where I put it, I didn’t.  I hoped it would be elsewhere.”  Gaius tutted and put a hand on the boy’s forehead.  Merlin pushed his hand away, still with that sadness in his eyes. 

“Where else would you expect it to be?”  Merlin gave a false smile and dipped his hands in the scalding water, scrubbing vigorously with the soap and washcloth as he lathered up the soft, hot fabric and began to clean himself. 

“Not exactly where I left it.  I just wished it had been moved.”  

∞Ŧ∞

Merlin knocked diffidently on Arthur’s door.  He was freshly scrubbed and clean, feeling much more himself with a full stomach of food.  He was still tired and Gaius hadn’t ceased murmuring about how pale he was, but had declared him safe to visit the King.  Merlin had detoured though, with Uther having no way of knowing when he had awakened.  It wasn’t defiance, not really.  Prudence more than anything, Merlin reasoned.  Gaius hadn’t known much about what the summons entailed, and was justifiably concerned, even if he had held that if Uther wanted to execute him, that he wouldn’t have bothered waiting.  The King was direct like that.

The door opened and Gwen looked up from her politely downcast look.  “Merlin!” she exclaimed, capturing him in a sudden hug that filled him with warmth.  He returned it and she squeezed him almost too hard, before she leaned back and held both of his cheeks in her hands.  “I was so worried!  We all were!”  He nodded his thanks and then Arthur was there, grinning toothily.

“You never fail to surprise, Merlin.  It’s… glad to see you back on your feet.”  Merlin ducked his head to his prince smiled. 

“Maybe you should stop teaching me sword tricks, sire.  I seem to have picked up a bit of noble sense.  Should just stick with common.  It’s safer.”  Arthur gave his happy laugh, that single exclamation that showed he was truly enjoying himself. 

“Well, you started in baby steps, didn’t you?  You take on one stray soldier and you’re out of it for a week.  Next time, just do what you do best, Merlin.  Scream like a girl and run and hide.”  Gwen frowned disparagingly at him and his smile disappeared.  Merlin’s did not as Gwen’s disapproval silenced the prince.  She squeezed Merlin’s hand in careful kindness before picking up the tray with Arthur’s lunch scraps on it.

“I’ll stop by Gaius’s tonight, and see how you are, okay?  Gaius told me you’re going to be very weak when you wake up, so make sure you don’t overstress yourself today.”  She looked meaningfully at Arthur, who stared at her with soft eyes and a low smile.  “I’m sure your Highness understands the need for Merlin to take care of himself first, until he’s better.”  Arthur’s smile widened and he bowed to the maid, who curtsied and flashed Merlin an affectionate smile.  “I’m so happy to see you’re feeling better, Merlin.”  He smiled at her and thanked her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how late it was,” he said, turning to Arthur as the prince held the door for Gwen and watched her go, his fingers twitching at her in farewell.  Merlin concealed a smile as the prince turned and then mock glared at him. 

“Glad as I am that you’re back to work, Merlin, you can keep your thoughts to yourself there.”  Merlin mimed sewing his lips shut.  Arthur put a hand on his shoulder and looked him over, noting the pale skin and reddened eyes. 

“Tomorrow will be fine to see my father, Merlin.  Maybe Gwen’s right and you should go back to rest.  And you don’t need to repeat that to her.”  Merlin smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t think the King’s ever actually summoned me before.  Is it serious?”  Arthur paused as he poured himself a glass of wine and drained it.  He had no head for wine, and Merlin took it as a bad sign. 

“Yes.”  He went silent then, and Merlin worked his mouth as he tried to form his next question.

“Should I just run?”  Arthur scoffed. 

“No.”  Again, he didn’t elaborate, and Merlin fumbled for more information.

“Care to give me some indication?”  Arthur poured another cup and drained that one too and Merlin winced.  Arthur put the cup down firmly and looked Merlin up and down.

“You’re asking all the right questions, today, Merlin.  Let’s go and get this over with.”  Merlin began to have second and third thoughts at that stage.  Arthur pulled on his jacket and Merlin blanched. 

“You mean now, like now now?” 

“How many other versions of “now” are there, Merlin?”  He buckled on his sword and tilted is head towards the door.  Merlin went and held it open and Arthur gave a slightly dangerous smile. 

“Oh no, Merlin.  Not this time.  After you.  You know the way to the throne room, don’t you?”  Merlin gave a sick smile and nodded, even as Arthur adjusted his sword belt loudly, loosening his sword in the scabbard.  Again came that enigmatic tilt of his head towards the door. 

“Let’s go.”  Merlin’s shoes barely made any noise as he made his way through the halls, but Arthur’s hard heeled spurred boots clanged uncomfortably like a cell door with steady rhythm, echoing off the stone walls and seeming much louder than polite.  Merlin felt like a deer before they were half way there, and by the time they came to the huge, imposing doors of the Great Hall, he was sweating and beginning to shake.  Arthur paused at the doors and eyed Merlin with a frown. 

“Alright then?”  Merlin bit his lip as his head began to throb. 

“Just a second?  I’m weaker than usual.”  Arthur held his silence at that, telling Merlin louder than words how deep his concern ran for his servant.  Merlin steadied himself and stood upright, nodding to Arthur, who pushed open the doors and led them inside. 

Far across the hall, Uther stood over a table, deep in discussion with several diplomats over documentation that lay scattered over the old, polished wood.  He looked up with a frown which quickly dissipated when he recognized Arthur.  His eyes locked onto Merlin, and the warlock ducked his head in deference, putting his hands behind him.  Arthur met his father’s eyes and nodded, and Uther stared at Merlin, but twisted his face towards the diplomats. 

“A personal matter that requires my attention.  We’ll continue this in a moment, if you’ll wait outside?”  His perfunctory tone dismissed the men, who bowed and turned in silence and headed to the solid wooden doors.  A guard’s mailed hand reached in and closed the door with a finality that echoed throughout the suddenly quiet hall.  Merlin nervously licked his lips and tasted sweat, hoping that he wouldn’t keel over in front of the unreadable King.  Uther sat back on his throne while Arthur stood beside him at attention.  Before them, Merlin’s heart beat feverishly and he remained staring at the floor as spots appeared in front of his eyes.  He blinked.

“Merlin, isn’t it?”  Uther knew his name, of course, but it was a way to start off whatever conversation they were about to have.  It was more subtlety than Merlin would have given him credit for.  Merlin ducked his head in a short bow, not daring to raise his eyes.  Uther gave a low laugh.

“He’s become mute then.  Someone cut out his tongue.  It would explain everything.”  Merlin’s stricken eyes rose to meet Uther’s. 

“Forgive me, my lord, yes, my name is Merlin.”  His voice echoed shakily in the hall and again he was reminded that it was only the three of them, and Uther’s tone didn’t seem at all congratulatory, nor could Merlin think of anything he’d done for such an honour, unless everything he’d ever done had come to light somehow, which meant he was about to be executed.  Maybe he was overthinking things.  Arthur would laugh if he thought Merlin was concerned about that.

“I have found you in the past to be a valuable ally in the war against magic, Merlin.  Extraordinarily loyal to Arthur, a trait that not all of his knight’s share.”  Merlin pursed his lips together and ducked his head again before his King. 

“Imagine my surprise to find that that loyalty had changed.”  Merlin stayed stock still as rage filled him.  He was, in Uther’s eyes he assumed, a base magic user and evil because of it.  But his loyalty had never wavered and he found himself silently hating his king for that statement. 

“My Lord?” he edged out between his teeth, seeking clarification.  Uther poured himself a goblet of wine and sat back down on the throne. 

“It may or may not have come to your attention that in the attack in which you were injured, that the Lady Morgana was outed as a betrayer of Camelot.  The reasons of her outing are still of great interest to me, but it appears that as usual when the sanctity of Camelot is threatened, that magic was involved.”  Merlin didn’t move outwardly, but his mind seethed and writhed in fear.  He could feel the sweat pouring down his back and the flashes in front of him threatened to unite into a complete blackout. 

“My… ward’s bracelet was cursed, and a darkness enveloped her.  Though she remained as she always has to those of us who love her, she was heart and soul Morgause’s agent.  What I want to know, Merlin, is why, when you discovered this, did you not bring it straight to my attention immediately?”  Uther’s intensity reached Merlin and the warlock opened his mouth to speak several times.  He shook his head, finally.

“An impossible choice, my lord.  I had no proof.  And any proof I may have found might have forced my lord to act on it.”  He fell silent and dared to look up.  Uther sat on the throne, staring at him with a vile expression of righteous anger on his face.  He dropped his eyes to the floor. 

“If I had proof to bring to you, your majesty, it would have condemned the Lady Morgana.  She was… is… the kindest person I’ve ever known.  To condemn someone like that, I… had to believe that there was no chance whatsoever that she could be brought back to you, as she was.  Who she was.  I had to keep faith.  I believed in her.”  Uther shook his head, his eyes still boring into Merlin.

“Idiotic naiveté.”  Merlin stayed in his pose, hands resting behind his back, pressed against his spine as the King’s ire snapped at him.  “You would have endangered the kingdom because you presume to know the mind of the Crown?”  Arthur straightened in his throne beside his father’s.

“You should have brought your suspicions of Morgana’s betrayal to me.”  Merlin’s head snapped up.

“So that you could behead your own sister?”  His accusatory tone brought Uther out of his chair, and with a stinging backhanded slap he sprawled backwards onto the cold stone.  He began to shiver and shake, even as Arthur called for his father’s calm with an urgent tone. 

“How long have you known?” he snarled.  Merlin struggled back to his knees weakly, bowing his head to the king’s anger, not out of submission, but because he was suddenly weak and listless. 

“Months, my lord.  It didn’t matter, it was just…just another of Morgause’s weapons against Camelot and Morgana,” he slurred.  Arthur was suddenly beside Uther, putting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder in concern.   The fire in Uther’s eyes left as suddenly as it had erupted, and he backed away.

“You’ve kept her secrets all this time.”  Merlin’s eyelids battered down as he struggled to stay conscious. 

“Always.  It’s what I do.  Not because she’s my Princess, or Arthur’s my prince.  But because I’m their friend, even if I’m just their servant.”  The king stared him then up at the ceiling. 

“You know too many secrets, boy.  You know too much to live.”  Merlin laughed then, weakly and staggered as he began to hiccup and his chest began to spasm. 

“G-good-d thing I-I’m d-dying th-then…”  He collapsed and began to shake uncontrollably.  Arthur swore and screamed for the guard as Uther stared at him in shock.  The guards rushed in as Arthur forced the leather hilt of his dagger between Merlin’s teeth.  He ripped his cloak off and bunched it up under Merlin’s head as it bounced off the unrelenting stone floor. 

“Fetch Gaius,” he commanded.  “Now!”  One of the guards took off at a run, and Arthur held onto Merlin’s face with his hands, trying to hold him still as he thrashed, but Merlin seemed possessed by an unbelievable strength.  He finally grabbed the bundled cloak and held it to the back of his friend’s head even as it cracked sickeningly onto the stark floor. “Hold on, Merlin,” he urged as blood began to seep out of his nose.  Arthur’s face twisted in anguish.  “Hold on!”

∞Ŧ∞

The guards carried Merlin’s hastily constructed litter into the physician’s lab and spread Merlin out on the table.  Gaius’s sharp intake of breath as he checked Merlin’s eyes had Arthur pacing in worry as the guards filed out at the prince’s terse command.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?  Is it his head?  Is there anything you can do?  I tried to stop him from hitting his head.”  Gaius gritted his teeth and looked askance at Arthur. 

“I won’t know anything until I have all the facts and I’ve made a full examination.”  Arthur’s mouth hung open and shut with a snap. 

“Of course, Gaius.  I’m sorry.”  Gaius raised an eyebrow at Arthur straightened, at attention almost.  “I… That is… Merlin went before the king.  Before he was… he shouldn’t have been out of bed, he just, he’s so bloody idiotic and he never thinks of himself and he just put on that stupid bloody Merlin face and he seemed fine but of course he bloody wasn’t…”  His mouth shut with a snap again and Gaius stared at him, warmed by Arthur’s concern.  He leant over and began to dab at the blood coming out of Merlin’s nose.  It had stopped flowing, but there was a bruise rising on his cheek that didn’t look blunt.  A distinct edge along the rising welts brought Gaius suspiciously back to Arthur, who followed his gaze and nodded. 

“Merlin was honest with my Father.”  Gaius’s eyes widened.

“Oh dear.  At least he’s still breathing.”  Arthur gritted his teeth and nodded as though it pained him. 

“He… struck him, Gaius.”  The physician frowned and straightened from his concerned lean over his apprentice and Arthur watched Merlin’s unconscious face uncomfortably.  “It was a strong blow… but I wouldn’t have though it would do this.  Not so strong as to kill.  But with Merlin’s being so weak…”  He fell silent as Gaius sighed and shook his head slowly.

“The blow caused some bleeding, but it’s a minor rupture.  It may have exacerbated Merlin’s condition, but I don’t believe it’s the cause.  I think Merlin was pushing himself, using up vital reserves of energy he didn’t have.  What did Uther want with him?”  Arthur gave a soft smile then, affectionate warmth in his eyes as he looked at his friend. 

“He wanted to know why Merlin hadn’t told anyone about Morgana and Morgause, even though he’d found them out.  So Merlin told him.  And revealed that he knew Morgana was my sister.”  His eyes flicked to Gaius, who sniffed and bent low over Merlin again, peeling his eyelids back and frowning.  Arthur’s head shifted, considering the physician’s reaction.

“You knew, too.”  Gaius paused for a second before feeling Merlin’s heartbeat and moving his hands along Merlin’s head, feeling the back of his skull tenderly.

“Merlin knows that a physician has to keep secrets, your highness.  I helped Merlin when I could and went to Uther when I had to.  We tried our best to keep Morgana out of it.  She hid her tracks well when we failed.  With both Morgana and Merlin doing everything they could, her secrets stayed hidden.”  Arthur began to pace again.

“Until the Glass Knight shone a torch on them all.”  Gaius left Merlin’s side to gather several vials of fluids and begin laying them out on the bench.  Arthur stood still, out of his way.  “Magic can heal when physics fails, can’t it, Gaius?”  Merlin began to shake again and the prince forgot his question as they lurched towards him, holding him down.  To Arthur’s dismay, it was much easier, with Merlin’s struggles only barely a bother.  It was a vast difference from the strength he’d displayed in the Great Hall, and Arthur worried. 

“Physics is the study of the mechanics of the natural world, Arthur.  Science has to accept the reality of natural laws and boundaries but it works consistently.  Magic blurs those lines with inconsistent results.”  He tapped Merlin on the chest comfortingly and wiped his brow.  Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shin and turned toward the door. 

“But the things it can accomplish… I’ll station some runners for you, Gaius.  If you need anything, or if there’s any change, I want to be notified immediately.”  He looked at Merlin’s sweating body and shook his head.  “He can’t die, Gaius.  If he does, I’ll kill him.”  Gaius wrung out the cold washcloth and went back to mixing potions as Arthur turned and left, closing the door behind him. He listened carefully until Arthur’s footsteps receded, and slumped down against the table, holding Merlin’s hand in his own. 

“Well, now what do we do, Merlin?”  The young warlock didn’t answer, but something deep in Gaius’s mind murmured, a long forgotten memory.  The old man closed his eyes and reached out, feeling his power deeply buried and struggling to the surface like a bubble trapped beneath a frozen lake surface.  Gaius frowned, tightly holding on to the forgotten memory of his long unused powers.  Like an unrealised song, it danced frustratingly close to his consciousness.  He opened his eyes and felt tears crawl down his cheeks.  “Merlin.  I can’t hear you, boy.  I can’t speak to you.”

∞Ŧ∞

“Arthur!” gasped Gwen as she caught sight of him.  The prince stared at her before comprehending her presence as she dragged him into one of the alcoves.  “The servant’s quarters are going insane.  They’re saying the king beat a servant to death!”  Arthur’s stunned expression didn’t change, but he paled. 

“Not yet.  Oh Gwen, what have I done?”  She held her hands to either side of his face and stared into his eyes.

“Tell me what happened, Arthur, please!” 

“I made Merlin go to see my father when he wasn’t ready.  I…  he’s…”  Gwen’s eyes widened in shock and she pushed away from him in horror.  Arthur followed her.  “No, Gwen, please, I’m not… Father struck Merlin, but he’s sick, really sick.  He wasn’t fully recovered but…”  His words trailed off as she stared at him accusingly.  

“That…”  Her normally smiling lips twisted as she clenched her teeth and shook her head in denial.  “He’s not human, Arthur.  He’s a monster.  One day, when your father dies, I swear the only tears I’ll shed will be for your loss.  He doesn’t deserve the life he has.”  Tears filled her eyes as she began to sob, memories of her father and Lancelot coming back to her and she began to cry.  Arthur reached for her but she twisted out of his reach and began to run.  He called, but she couldn’t hear him as she fled her pain. 

She didn’t stop running until she reached Morgana’s quarters and burst through, slamming the door behind her and collapsing down to the stones, her face in her hands and her sobbing racking her entire body.  She tried to control the sobs, but they tore through her will like agony and escaped her.  It took only an instant and Morgana was there, holding her and hugging her tightly, and then Gwen truly sobbed.  She held to Morgana’s skirts with all her strength and sobbed.  Once she quieted somewhat, Morgana leaned back. 

“Gwen, I’m here.  Just know that.  Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it.  I promise.”  Her words touched Gwen, crossing the almost non-existent boundary between the Lady and her maid.  But her breath was laced with the sweets that Merlin favoured, the velvety smooth cream caramels that Arthur always complained about, and it was too much for her.

“God, Morgana, it’s Merlin.  He’s dying.  Uther’s killed him.”  Morgana stilled and leaned back, staring at her.  Gwen looked up as magic flashed in Morgana’s eyes and the quelled.  Her lip twitched and then she was calmed, but her pale green eyes were sparking as she tried to contain her magic against the rage that threatened to release it.  It took a moment, but when she blinked and spoke, her voice was deathly quiet.

“Tell me everything.”

∞Ŧ∞

The door to the private chamber opened with a crack and Uther turned around from staring out the window.  Morgana strode towards him, her lips parted as though she were straining for breath.  He held up a hand and patted the air reassuringly as he turned to face her. 

“Now Morgana, I know I shouldn’t have…”  She snarled at him wordlessly and swung her fist forward, knuckles curled into a bony fist.  She struck his face straight on and then reared back for another blow.  It struck him on the side of the head and knocked him back and she snatched at his jacket, holding the lapels in her claw like hands and then hitting him again, her knuckles connecting solidly with his jaw enough to bring flashes of light to his eyes. 

“Murderer!” she snarled, venom in her tone.  She snarled at him again and grabbed hold of his jacket with such bright hatred in her eyes that Uther slumped down onto the floor of his chambers, unwilling to believe the vindictiveness twisting his daughter’s features. 

“I swore to you, that I would never use magic again!  You promised me no harm would come to Merlin!  He stood by me even when no one else did, and you, you son of a bitch, you’re killing him.  He’s dying, murderer, he’s dying!”  Her lips peeled back as she snarled at him again, finding more release in those unintelligible growls than any proclamation.  “I will peel you apart like rotted fruit and rip you… tear you apart and dance in your mess…”  Her eyes roved over his face, not even seeing him stare at her in horror.  She shook her head.  “I want to rip your face off…”  She clenched her teeth and her vicious face suddenly turned to tears.  Her stricken features looked torn between the anger she held onto so tightly and the pain she was feeling.  Spittle pooled out of her mouth as she clenched her teeth tighter against the pain and then slumped back.  She shook her head into her hands and Uther, as stricken as she was, reached for her.  As soon as he touched her, Morgana jerked back away from him.  Torn between rage and pain she might have been, but her teary eyes were crystal clear when she looked at him. 

“It’s all my fault.  I should never have told you he knew.  I should never have trusted you.  I believed in you, I thought that you’d reward him, because that’s what he’d deserved.  He showed what a true friend he was to all of us and to Camelot, and for your pride, you’ve killed him.”  Uther’s hand curled into a fist and then let go again.  He dropped it to his lap and all the life seemed to go out of him. 

“Yes.”  Morgana wiped her eyes clear and followed suit on her nose.  Uther listlessly lifted his hands, palm up.  “I struck the boy for speaking the truth.  He was honest and I repaid him with my darkest temper.  I responded like a man, and not a king.”  Morgana watched blood seep from the corner of his mouth and down his nose.  His lip began to swell and he worked his jaw, his eyes darkening with his temper.  “But I AM a king, Morgana.  I am your king.  And now, yet again, you’ve committed treason.”  Morgana scoffed. 

“You’re the treasonous one, Uther.  When you took the crown, you swore to serve the people.  When was the last time you served anyone but yourself?  The King that you are has my fealty.  The man; never again.”  Her green eyes darkened, matching his in rage.  “And if Merlin dies, I’ll leave Camelot and never return, fealty be damned.”  Uther looked devastated, but Morgana gathered herself and stalked out, slamming the wooden door with a well executed finality.  Uther pushed his tongue towards the throbbing pain of his cheek and shook his head with a rueful smile that faded quickly as his lip throbbed.  He stayed sitting on the floor as the dust settled back down around him slowly.

∞Ŧ∞

“Gaius?”  The fearful quaver was barely above a whisper as Morgana came into the physician’s home.  He turned and she locked the door before she moved to him.  Her eyes were teary and her right hand bore abrasions, but her eyes were only on Merlin.  She hugged Gaius for a moment before she leaned back, moving her hair out of her face.  Gaius tutted disapprovingly and fetched some cleaning tinctures and a small washcloth.  He gestured for Morgana to sit, which she did, taking his stool by Merlin’s side.  He snagged her right hand and looked at the knuckles before glancing reprovingly at her.  Morgana’s head twisted away in shame, but her free hand lipped up and slid over Merlin’s and she squeezed. 

“I’ve seen wounds like these before.  Mostly on young knights, eager to prove themselves against their peers.”  Morgana ran her thumb across Merlin’s hand and closed her eyes, feeling the tears escape slightly. 

“Uther,” she admitted guiltily.  Gaius didn’t comment for a moment as he cleaned the abrasions and wrapped it in a clean bandage.  He tied it off and smeared some resin on the ends to keep them attached. 

“You are your father’s daughter, in that regard.”  She lifted her head towards him, opening her damning eyes slowly.

“Do you mean Gorlois... or Uther?”  The old physician smiled. 

“The only time Gorlois ever lost his temper was when you did something to endanger yourself.  Like riding a horse who was far too wild for you, if memory serves.”  Morgana smiled then, truly smiled, and the worries of her day seemed to lift instantly.

“Snow Dancer.  He wasn’t wild; he was just free, like I’d wanted to be.”  The smile faded.  “If only I’d known how free I’d truly been back then.”  Her thumb moved across the back of Merlin’s palm and she lifted his hand and put it to her cheek, pressing her face against his skin.

“What’s going on, Gaius?  I need you to tell me what’s happened to him.”  Gaius moved around the table and checked Merlin’s pulse.  He frowned and went back to his books for a moment, then looked at Morgana’s teary eyes and at the lips that were pressed against Merlin’s palm.  He checked the notes and rechecked Merlin’s pulse. 

“Well... uh... brain injuries are quite tricky...”  Morgana turned those glorious eyes on him and he faltered, even as she kissed Merlin’s palm and held his hand, lowering it back to the bench. 

“No, Gaius.  I don’t want to hear the lies that you’ll tell Uther or Arthur or Gwen.  We both know Merlin’s condition isn’t anything to do with fighting a rogue soldier.  It has to do with his magic, doesn’t it?”  Gaius looked back at the door nervously, before he nodded slowly.  “Gaius... I know he was the Glass Knight.  I know the sword is a newly made weapon of the Old Religion.  I also know that there hasn’t been anything like that made since the times of High Magic.”  Gaius pursed his lips and looked fondly at Merlin’s sleeping form.

“Merlin can do things, Morgana.  Things that nobody else has ever been able to do, I fear.  He’s quite possibly the most powerful warlock in the history of magic itself.”  She stared at him, confusion in her eyes. 

“He was born with magic?  Warlock’s are born with it, but they’re never as powerful as learned sorcerers...”  She trailed off as Gaius smiled. 

“That’s what I’d learned, too.  Merlin rewrites those old books.  He keeps pushing against the barriers of magic, against the well established lore that rules over those who have the powers of the Old Religion.  What can and can’t be simply aren’t restrictions on Merlin.  They’re just inconveniences.”  Morgana’s proud smile warmed him for a moment as she looked down at Merlin, smoothing his hair back from his face and running her fingertips over his cheekbones and down to his lips.  She cast a quick glance at Gaius and then hurriedly moved her hand.  The physician stifled a smile. 

“And the armour?  The sword?”  Gaius’s smile faded and he sighed. 

“At first, I thought it was feeding on his willpower.  That Merlin was sustaining it on the strength of his stubbornness and inner strength.  It’s bolstered his magic before, as he’d done before with other spells, transformative spells which take up a great deal of energy.  But now...  Now I believe that it may have directly linked with his magic.  That it’s sapping his magical strength.”  Morgana’s eyes widened. 

“Can it heal him?  Protect him?”  Gaius frowned at her suddenly desperate hope. 

“Merlin told me he feels stronger within the suit.  Nigh on invincible.  But if he’s wearing the suit, then his magic will be drained constantly, perhaps emptying him completely.  He could be...” 

“Normal.”  She let go of Merlin’s hand and raced to his bedroom.  A grating clank echoed down to Gaius, who moved around the table even as she came back, holding the glass and wood sword.  “Use it.  He’ll be alive.  That’s all that matters.”  Gaius shook his head vehemently and barred her from Merlin’s side. 

“No, Morgana.  We have no way of knowing what that would do to him!  Merlin’s magic isn’t just a part of him that can be removed like a tumour, it’s intrinsic to him!  It’s entwined in every part of his being.  To drain him of that may kill him as surely as...”

“As doing nothing?  He’s dying already!”  Her anguish twisted her face into an ugly parody of its normal serene beauty and she began to cry heavily.  Great wracking sobs shook her, and Gaius took the sword from her, placing it on the bench behind him. 

“I know you’re worried, child, I do.  I’m worried as well.  But we can’t give up.  We can’t let our faith in Merlin be misplaced.  We have to believe.  As he does.”  Morgana’s shoulders fell and didn’t rise, and she lifted her head. 

“This is all my fault.”  He almost laughed. 

“Seems to me I’ve heard that too many times today...”  He trailed off and turned around suddenly, his eyes wide.  Merlin sat up, staring at his hand in wonder as the sword bled the armour over him.  He jerked his head around and screamed as the armour flowed over him, enveloping him even as Morgana shrieked his name.  It took only a second and then the Glass Knight eased its legs off the table.  It stared at Gaius and Morgana from behind the visor, but didn’t speak.  The door cracked and then burst open as the guards kicked at it from behind.  Sir Leon stared at the knight in sudden confusion as it raised a hand and blasted them back out into the hallway.  The armour writhed around Merlin’s body for a moment, as if unsettled.  When the rippling waves of glass and wood grew still, it turned perfunctorily and strode towards the door as if ignoring them both.  Morgana darted around and grabbed at the gauntleted hand, but the knight’s head turned sharply to her and she let go. 

“Merlin...”  The head tilted to the side in a slow motion as if it didn’t understand, and then that deep voice came back through to her.

“No.”  She leapt up into his arms and held him against her.

“Yes, Merlin, you are.  My Merlin.  My Knight.”  His arms didn’t move around her and she kissed the mouth plate.  The cold glass didn’t move and the arms let her go.  Morgana arched back and held the helm in her hands, staring deep into the visor.  For a brief moment, the armour rippled again like still lake water accepting a thrown rock.  The glass melted back from his face and his cobalt blue eyes stared into hers. 

“Morgana, RUN.”  She shook her head and bit her lip as Merlin’s arms wrapped around her and he kissed her soundly, pressing her to him in desperate feeling.  He gasped against her and they parted as pain overtook him.  He dropped to one knee and Morgana‘s fingers moved as the glass flowed back under her fingertips, forming the helm again in front of Merlin’s face.  “I love...”

The Glass Knight stood and shrugged her off as it moved towards the door frame.  It didn’t look back as it moved out to the hallway.  Morgana sat stunned on the floor as Gaius came to her side and helped her up. 

“What... Gaius?”  He looked old then; gravely sighing as if he’d lost every battle worth fighting and was facing another.

“The armour has him.  I fear Merlin will be gone unless we can get the armour off him.”

“How do we do that?”

“I don’t know.” 

∞Ŧ∞

Kilgarrah landed quietly in the meadow, almost silent except for the rush of air from his wings.  The dragon looked up at the distant lights of Camelot and then around for Merlin, who normally met him there.  His vision couldn’t see Merlin’s body heat anywhere, but the summons still echoed in Kilgarrah’s blood.  It was building pressure in his mind, and he looked about again.  As though it melted from the shadows, the glass and wood armour surrounding Merlin moved into the moonlight, startling the ancient creature.  Kilgarrah’s eyes narrowed at its silent approach until his lip lifted in a snarl.  The pressure built in his mind and pain began to blossom.  Kilgarrah snarled and the figure raised a hand, holding Merlin’s power in its grasp and flaunting it.  Kilgarrah moaned as the compulsion settled on his mind like a blanket.  He shook, trying to resist, but the Dragon Lord’s will was indomitable. 

“Merlin, stop this.  I am your friend.  Merlin!”  The figure strode towards his bowed head and clambered onto his neck.  There was no trace of Merlin’s warmth, and even his scent had changed.  There was only the cold, unfeeling glass, and dead wood of the rowan tree.  Kilgarrah turned his head, but the will broke over him and held him fast. 

“Fly.”  Kilgarrah fought against the command and the power of the Dragon Lord intensified beyond anything the dragon had ever felt as the power over him was handled ruthlessly. 

The dragon took to the air.


	3. The Emerys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Glass Knight is free and Merlin is gone from Camelot.  
> It's been three months since Merlin was lost to the armour, and all hope has been lost by Gaius and Morgana that their friend might come back to them.  
> Uther has taken Morgana's oath and bound her to his side as his darkness grows and Arthur has to handle life after watching his father attack Merlin in his weakened state.  
> Relentlessly, Uther sends Arthur out constantly, trying to find the Glass Knight, seeing his escape as a constant reminder against the powers of magic.  
> But Merlin isn't gone, he's trapped. And he wants out. But with the Glass Knight's powers being fed by his magic and his will, how can Merlin gather enough strength to resist him, and break free?  
> Mergana, that's how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's some funky stylizing to differentiate what happens within the armour from what happens without, I hope it's not too confusing, it seemed to work, but yeah, let me know if it gets too confusing and I'll whine, because I thought I'd found a solution. ;)
> 
> Italics are what happens within the armour, but I've kept speech the same as usual, because it all feels so real to Merlin.  
> I really struggled to come up with a way to convey the broken wrongness of the armour's thoughts, so they're in bold underlined with mixed case lettering. I think it works, like something speaking that shouldn't be speaking. You know, like magical armour... 
> 
> Comments and Kudos always appreciated!

The Emerys, Lord of Dragons

* * *

* * *

 

“You’re standing there like I’m about to execute you.  Just report.”

“I would, if I knew what to say; we've tried everything, Father.  Arrows, ambushes.  Frontal assault.  I offered him my life, for God’s sake, and he just walked away.  For whatever reason, the Glass Knight has made Camelot’s lands his home base, though where, I don’t know.  I’ve no idea.”  Arthur shook his head vehemently.  He stood at attention in the hall, his mail shirt still carrying the debris from the last fight.  Leon, three other knights and the guards that had accompanied them on the patrol stood behind him.   The tall, curly haired knight was cradling a broken arm, and Uther waved the rest of them away in a quipped dismissal.  He drank heavily from the cup at his side and motioned for the serving boy to refill it as the knights and guards filed out.  The great hall was quiet as Uther gathered his thoughts. 

“Send for Morgana.”  A runner left quickly, and Uther seethed on his throne.  Arthur stood at attention still and Uther called forward another serving boy with a goblet of water, which the prince drained.  “Did we lose anyone?”  Arthur shook his head before raising the cup, as if to throw it.  He eased out a breath and got hold of his temper.  He handed to goblet back to the serving boy and shook his head as he turned back to his father.

“It’s like he’s toying with us, father.  Except it’s not that.”  Uther took another drink. 

“What do you mean?”  Arthur slumped in the throne beside his father. 

“He doesn’t kill us.  And he could.  I’m sorry to say it, father, but we’re outmatched with him.  He doesn’t draw the sword, doesn’t even seem to carry it with him.”  He ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward, spreading both of his hands wide in consternation.

“He doesn’t make the dragon attack us; he just sits there.  Whoever he is, he doesn’t even seem to care about as, like we’re an inconvenience to him and nothing more.  I swear, father, he pays as much attention to us as we would a fly, and swats us aside with as little effort.  This is the third time in as many months that we’ve come across him on patrol, and he’s just either ignored us until we challenge him, or blocks our path with magic.  He just stands there, throws his hands up, and we’re cut off.  I don’t know whether to feel humbled or insulted that he couldn’t care less about us.  If he really wanted to hurt us, I don’t know if we could stop him, father.  All the creatures of magic we’ve ever faced, this one…  This one worries me like none other, father.  Not just worries.  He scares me.  I don’t know how to handle him.”   Uther’s lip curled in a snarl. 

“We are Camelot, Arthur.  The knights of this realm have defended against just this kind of threat for twenty years.  You’re suddenly in charge and fail miserably.  Perhaps I should retake command of the garrison.”  Arthur’s face blanched and he shook his head as he stood up again. 

“Much as I’d like to see you charge a sorcerer mounted dragon with a horse and a lance, father, perhaps you’d better sit this one out.  The dragon may hate you even more than the knight.  The knight had ample opportunity to end you the night of the ball.”  Arthur looked thoughtful at that.  “Do you know what he’s doing, father?  He’s evacuating Druids.  He’s taking those with magic out of Camelot.  I thought you’re be happy.”  Uther dragged Arthur out of the throne and held his son up straight. 

“Sorcery is a crime punishable by death.  Those who practice it should not be granted clemency in another land, but should be eradicated, like dead flesh scrubbed from a wound so it can heal strongly.  I wonder if you can’t defeat this sorcerer because you don’t want to.”  Arthur gritted his teeth in frustration but he didn’t back down in the slightest in the heat of his father’s disparagement. 

“Whoever he is, he saved my life, father.  I owe him that.  And of course I’m trying.  You know I’m loyal to the laws of my kingdom.”  Uther released him with a shove and stormed back to the windows, staring out down into the courtyard as he leaned on the stone sill.

“It’s not your kingdom yet, Arthur.  The way you bleed for those with magic when they caused the death of your mother makes me sick.”  Arthur scoffed, snapping Uther’s head back in his direction.

“That’s not how I meant it and you know it.  I’ll destroy him, father, I swear.”  Uther turned back and away as he nodded slowly, lost in his frantic thoughts. 

“Your flippancy knows no boundaries.  Its source can only be Morgana, given that your servant ran back home with his tail between his legs.”  Arthur’s hand dropped pointedly to his sword pommel. 

“His name was Merlin, father.  You should remember that, given that you nearly beat him to death after he was wounded defending _your_ kingdom.”  Arthur dismissed himself before Uther could reply, slamming the great doors behind him and cursing silently.  He gritted his teeth again and forced himself to calm down.  Thoughts of Gwen brought him back to relative normalcy, and he made his way towards his chambers for food and fresh clothes.  He sent a guard to gather another group of knights and ready them for patrol.  His stormy features coalesced into a scowl as he rounded the corner and saw Morgana making her way to the great hall.  She stopped and put a hand on his arm, concern in her green eyes.  She seemed to have lost the smiling girl about her that he’d grown up with in the last few months.  She no longer laughed or smiled and Arthur missed her greatly, surprising himself.  He wanted to see her smile again.  Just once, would have been enough.

“He’s itching for a fight.  I might have made it worse for you.”  Morgana’s cool gaze drifted towards the throne room as Arthur took a deep, steadying breath.  “I’m sorry, Morgana.  With all these patrols scouring the kingdom, I haven’t made much time for you.  It’s not how I wanted to renew our friendship.  How are you faring?”  She diffidently looked down and clasped her hands together in front of her bodice. 

“As well as can be expected, my lord.  I lack for nothing of sustenance.  Lord Uther’s graciousness extends to every courtesy.”  Arthur grabbed her hand and pulled her into the alcoves to the castle side of the balcony. 

“Not with me, too, Morgana.  You’re my sister.  If there’s something I can do, I’ll do it, for you.  Do you need anything?”  Morgana almost smiled at his concern, but patted his hand as he held hers in concern.  She opened her mouth and then fell silent with a sigh.  “Morgana.  Little sister.”  She closed her eyes in a slow blink of pain. 

“I miss my magic, Arthur.  It’s like if you had to give up your sword and armour.  It’s part of who you are.  Making sure you don’t slip up is tiring.  And no one else will come to Camelot if they have magic, because the Glass Knight is offering them all sanctuary.  People like me are fleeing Camelot in droves.”  Arthur grimaced.

“You heard about that?”  She nodded.  “What do you think he’s doing?”

“I think he wants peace.  He certainly doesn’t want war, no matter how hard Uther pushes for it.  If he wanted war, he’d have tried to kill you.”  Arthur gave a harsh laugh.

“At first I thought he was doing just that.  But we’ve come upon him in the forest three times now, and every time, the only reason we weren’t all killed was he chose not to.”  Morgana looked out into the corridor and the rain that was pelting down outside. 

“Have you tried talking to him?  Has he said anything?”  Arthur shook his head. 

“He never speaks.  When we had the ball, he was eloquent and charming.  It’s almost like he’s devoid of life, in that suit.  Or it’s another person in the suit.  Either way, it’s not the same person that fought Morgause with me.”  Morgana’s lips pursed together prettily and tears filled her eyes.  Arthur stared at her through his wayward blonde hair.  “Morgana… do you know anything about him that you’re not telling me?”  She shook her head and lifted a hand to her face, pushing away the tears.

“No, I’m just frightened.  I should go to Uther.”  Arthur nodded slowly and watched her go.  She turned and waved to him, her face solemn and still as she rounded the corner.

“Bollocks, Morgana.  You’ve never been afraid of any man.”

∞Ŧ∞   

“You summoned me, your majesty?”  Mastery of tone and inference was a skill Morgana had learned long ago.  With those two independent clauses, Morgana had with the first informed Uther that she was completing her duties as was expected, jabbing at his parental nature, inferring that he was attempting to crush her spirit and would never succeed.  The second, the “your majesty” spoken in such abstract polite disinterest, showed clearer than daylight itself how she had broken from any kind of personal attachment to him, and considered him only as a sovereign, a king.  Not the man who had raised her.  Uther once again marvelled at her.  She was a better politician than he would ever be.  The intricacies of political nuance were like skipping rope to her.  Her light feet had always loved to dance about.  He missed the little girl she had been, when she hadn’t known.  Sometimes, Uther wished that it was nothing more in those days than a father raising his daughter.  But a king was father to the nation, not simply to his children.  He had a duty.  His face firmed in resolve as he turned away from the window.

She’d lost weight, he noted.  Weight she couldn’t afford to lose.  Since their encounter with the Glass Knight, she barely ate.  She looked like a dressmaker’s frame, the mannequin features all the more real for the dead eyes that looked at him.  Damn her, he thought.  She wasn’t taking care of herself.  She’d wait until he ordered her to do it.  Well, if she was to be a child then he would treat her as such.  She might be the politician, but this was Camelot, and here, the king’s will was law.

“You look dreadful.  I’ve no use for you if you’re going to keel over at the slightest breeze.”  Her head remained downcast but a light rouge coloured her cheeks in the steady air of the hall.  Never cowed, he marvelled.  His stubbornness shone, but her strength was her own.  Morgana’s will was the most indomitable thing about her.  It reached higher than Camelot’s walls themselves and was more solid.  He moved up closer to her, noting the high collar, concealing bodice and unpainted nails.  Her face was almost severe in its harsh presentation, but she still wore a light perfume, rose oil, about her.  His austere features stilled except for the sudden twist to his cheeks as he ground his teeth in sullen rage. 

“You carry the rose, still.  Get rid of it.  It is an artefact of sorcery.”  Morgana straightened and drew a spider silk thin silver chain from her bodice, opening the clasp at her throat to draw out a budding rose, carved in a deep red wood, stained darker and richer.  In its centre lay a carved stone from which the scent of rose oil arose.  The stone was dull and grey, filled with many pores.  It was simple and beautiful, but nothing any number of market artisans could not have provided for a cost.

“My apologies, Lord of Kings, but you are perhaps mistaken in your righteous ire.  The rose you speak of was shattered on the night of my oath as proof of my devotion to Camelot.”  Again, every word out of her mouth was a stabbing accusation.  He remembered the fire in her when she’d attacked him in his chambers.  The fierce pride he’d felt at her passion and anger.  She was as much a warrior in her own right as Arthur.  But she’d detached herself from life itself.  The Morgana who had challenged him, fought him tooth and nail, and knuckles, was gone. 

“Damn you, Morgana.”  His quiet sigh reached her, but her eyes didn’t lift to his.

“Your majesty?”  So cold, her tone, and so polite.  She might as well have been addressing her horse.  Pain flared behind his severe countenance.  Her warmth would have shone through at least for her horse. 

“The Glass Knight.  Arthur and his patrol encountered him yet again.  Your people are fleeing Camelot in droves and he protects them, yet he doesn’t challenge me yet.  What’s he waiting for?”  Morgana stood tall and did meet his eyes then.  Uther looked away.  The once glorious green eyes were dull and lifeless like her demeanour.  Uther mourned his daughter even as she stood before him. 

“You presume that I know the mind of such a... thing?”  For a second, he thought she’d smile cruelly at him, but then, perhaps she’d forgotten how to smile.  She held to her hurt like a child clinging to its mother’s skirts.  Uther took a breath to snap at her. 

“I have no people.  I have nothing.  That was my oath, remember?”  His words faded away as he stared at her.  There was no vehemence or malice to her words, no twisted sneer or pointed jab.  She was reminding him of her oath and nothing more.  Perhaps the toll had been too high.  Morgana was back in Camelot, paying for her time against its light as she schemed for its throne.  He sighed. 

“Can you tell me what you know about...  why it?”  His tone turned curious as the revelation came to him.   Morgana stared at him, wariness to her every fibre. 

“You said “thing” as if it wasn’t a man, Morgana.”  She lowered her eyes again.

“The man inside the suit is gone, my lord.  He doesn’t speak anymore, and given his eloquence and thoughtfulness at our first meeting, I would only assume that that man is no more.”   Her eyes shined suddenly as her eyes blinked, the proverbial duck upon the pond, as it were.  Their pain revealed the loss keenly felt by the disavowed princess.  “Imagine a man willing to lay his life down for a crown that hates him in defence of its right to rule him.  Surely such a loss is...”  Morgana wept silently, the tears coursing down her fair face.  Uther walked in front of her and dried her tears with the corner of his sleeve.  She lifted her chin out of his grasp and looked up and away, trying to stop the tears that came through her facade. 

“What else do you know about him?”  Uther had gone quiet and looked thoughtful, a tactic that Morgana had not been expecting.  He noticed her look and shrugged.  “It’s always helpful to know your enemies.” 

“Your enemies.  Because he has magic.”  Uther’s look calmed after a flicker of rage came across his face and went.

“Sorcery is outlawed in Camelot.”  She lifted her head but her lips pressed together and she didn’t give in to the obvious temptation of antagonism. 

“Those who have magic can still serve the crown, and some prove helpful.  They’d best keep it that way.”  Her eyes narrowed and his dark temper rose up again into his eyes to meet the cool disdain in hers. 

“How do you wish me to serve, King Pendragon?”  She made his teeth ache from the defiance in her being.  He was king of Camelot, and she spoke to him like a child. 

“That remains to be seen, Morgana.  You’re proving your loyalties are still torn.  You obviously know more than what you’re telling me in regards to your lover’s whereabouts.”  Morgana straightened, and for the first time, her eyes flared with hot temper that broke her serenity. 

“Lover... you are as base as any loathsome tavern keeper.  No man has taken me.”  Uther stomped over to the small bench that held the wine decanter and refilled his goblet with a hand that poured unsteadily in his heavy grip. 

“Not for your want of offering.  Slathering yourself over that sorcerer like a cheap courtesan.  Is it any wonder your honour is impugned, given your behaviour?”  Morgana’s cheeks flamed but she held herself aloof. 

“I will hold to my oaths, King Pendragon.”  Uther threw the goblet passed her face, slewing dregs of wine across her face.  Morgana turned her head in disgust and slowly wiped the droplets from her cheek.  Uther watched her form straighten and take a step backwards. 

“Where are you going?”

“That was a dismissal if ever I have seen one, King Pendragon.”  Uther’s hand twitched on the pommel of his sword. 

“You’ll be required tomorrow for the patrol.  They leave at dawn from the courtyard.  Be ready.”  Morgana flicked the wine off her fingertips towards the ground near the three conjoined wooden thrones.  Hers stood stark and empty beside Uther’s because the artisans hadn’t had a chance to remove it yet.  She gave a cold curtsy.  

“Whatever the King demands.”

∞Ŧ∞  

“This is ludicrous,” muttered Arthur as the knights formed up.  The guards stood at attention to their rear and flanks, but Arthur, Percival and Gwaine sat on horseback uneasily around Morgana’s form.  She was an island of calm and serenity in amongst the steel and iron of Camelot’s guard.  In a sea of fidgeting red, she wore a mail shirt and boots, with her hair bound up in a warrior’s knot about her head like a crown of black silk.  She had been there before Arthur had led the knights out in the predawn light, sitting on her horse calmly.  Arthur had shaken his head and tried to talk to her, but she had remained quiet.  Uther had told him the previous night, when he’d gotten back from his patrol.  Arthur had disagreed.  Uther had been insistent.  Arthur had argued.  Uther had been insistent.  Arthur had raged.  Uther had been insistent. 

He mounted and loosened his sword in its sheath, noticing that Morgana seemed uncomfortable with the weapon that she had consistently outstripped him in when they were growing up.  Arthur wondered if it was because it was steel, if it was a weapon or if because she was being punished for not knowing more about the Glass Knight.  Or not revealing more.  He sighed and offered her a false smile that she appreciated for its kindness, if not the words he followed them with. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much.  He’s long gone from the creek bed we found him in with the druids.  We normally don’t see him for a month or so.  And the bandits are all afraid of him, so they’re quiet for a day or two after his last sighting.  That’s the way it’s happened for the last couple of months.  Nothing to worry about.”  Morgana looked down at her thin hands, and the leather gloves that both her and Arthur favoured, lined with rabbit fur.  Hers had shark skin stripped and sewn across the outside palms, giving her extra grip. 

“I’m not afraid of the Glass Knight, Arthur.  I don’t think it would hurt me.  It doesn’t hurt anyone from Camelot, unless we attack it.  I don’t think we have to be afraid of... it.”  Arthur chanced a glance behind him surreptitiously.  The guards were all looking defeated and worried, and Percival was eyeing them openly with a scowl, wordlessly warning them to keep their discipline.  Gwaine was quiet, which was telling enough as it was.

“That makes one of us.” 

∞Ŧ∞  

The small girl with the dark wavy hair that hung low to her waist watched the dragon stir restlessly on the ground.  He opened one eye that seemed as big as the moon that hung as it lost way to the lightening sky and as bright as the sun that would darken her skin by the midday, staring right at her. 

“You shouldn’t be here, little one.”  There was a scratchy quality to his voice, the deep sound somehow sounding at once powerful and frail though she didn’t know how. 

“I’ve never seen a dragon before.  I thought I should.”  Amusement twinkled in his eye as he closed it again. 

“I suppose any druid parents would accept that as solid reasoning.  How fare the people?”  She bowed her head at the somewhat ritual greeting.

“We are challenged by cold, but fed and grow strong as the land,” she responded.  His lip lifted in a smile, showing her all his teeth, though he didn’t laugh.  She looked around, but the dragon seemed alone.  “What’s your name?” 

“I am Kilgharrah.  And who would be my lady inquisitor?” 

“Me?”

“Yes, Kara, you.”

“I’m... hey!”  He chuckled this time as she walked closer to him, a smile lighting up her face.  A movement behind her had the dragon on his feet and standing over her protectively.  She gave a squeak of shock as he surged to his feet, but his forepaw curled around her protectively.  He lowered his head as the glass and wood armour glinted in the moonlight.  Kilgharrah lowered his head, almost encasing the girl, but she stared around his thick scaled leg at the figure.  The morning sunlight dappling through the trees glowed through the armour, giving it a warm white hue around the smooth wooden waves within it.  Kara blushed as the figure walked closer, lowering her head in deference.  The helm didn’t move towards her, but she felt something strange in its gaze, as though it was very interested in her, and yet at the same time didn’t care for her at all.  It was strange.  Kara chewed a strand of her hair behind the dragon’s leg. 

“Run along home, little one.  The Emerys requires me.”  The dragon’s aged tone was filled with disappointment, and Kara patted him reassuringly.  She moved out and the wordless figure did then turn to regard her, as she approached him warily.  She stood for a minute, and then reached out for his hand.  The glass felt cold to her fingertips, but she took the strand of her from her mouth determinedly.   

“You saved my nanna.  My papa didn’t make it, but you saved my nanna, and now I get to see her.  You wouldn’t be so scary if people thanked you more, so thank you.”  The helm stared at her, but it wasn’t scary, despite the lack of eyes.  There was no change in the strange streaked blues and greens of the stained glass faceplate, but Kara wondered if he was smiling at her.  The hand she grasped twitched and the dragon moved forward, like a cat preparing to pounce, the muscles gathering under his hind legs.  But all that happened was the glass covered thumb moved over the back of her hand, squeezing her hand gently.  She smiled, and the dragon looked suddenly intent, a hope burning in his bright eyes that hadn’t been there for months. 

But then the Glass Knight dropped Kara’s hand and moved forward towards Kilgharrah, and the weight of its will began to crush him until he lowered his head.  The great dragon bowed his head to Kara with mysterious eyes, and she curtseyed as they took off into the crisp morning, heading towards the deep forest.

∞Ŧ∞  

_The presence filtered into his awareness slowly.  Merlin stood slowly, feeling the heavy chains wrapped around him bite into his ribs and his shoulders, wrapping tighter around his neck and chest as he stood.  They clinked around his arms and weighed him down, but in the darkness, he couldn’t see them, could only feel them.  The blackness surrounded him.  But he wasn’t alone.  He didn’t know how he knew.  He just did._

** I…i aM tHe EmERys.  tHE lOrd OF dRagoNs.    **

“Why tell me?” _he mocked, carelessly.  No light showed, but he could feel the Glass Knight’s attention on him.   The voice slid up into his consciousness like oil on water.  It was the cold shiver down his spine and the queasy feeling in his gut.  It was primeval, something wholly magical and not understanding.  It simply was, and so it only understood what it knew._

** EMERYS Is i.  LorD of… **

“You’re nothing,” he shook his head, cutting it off.  “You’re a demon I conjured from my own mistakes.  You’re everything I ever wished I could be.  But you’re not me.”  _It held there for a moment._

** i Am eMerYS.  lOrd oF DRagoNs.  **

“You said that.  Convincing me, or yourself?”  _He trailed off as the black shimmered, almost seeing the armour move in the blackness.  Like watching a silver man move in a room of silver, only it was black._  

** i… I aM… **

“Nothing, but melted sand and polished wood.” 

** dRagon lord. **

“My name is Merlin,” _he said, forcefully holding his tone strong and defiant._ “And you’re going to fail.”

** … **

“You’re breaking.  Do you hear me?  I’m going to break you.  I’m going to get out of these chains somehow.  And I’m going to break you, shake you clean from existence like a beaten rug looses dust.”  _He could feel his heart hammering in his chest.  He’d felt the little girl.  The armour hadn’t understood it, and had reached out; delving into his soul to understand the creature and it had brought him back to himself somewhat.  For a moment, he had reconnected with the armour, because it had reached out to him, trying to understand.  It had taken his power then, his will and his magic like a leech siphoning strength from a body.  But in that taking, Merlin had felt it.  It was a part of him, but only the extreme natures of himself.  His righteous rage, his need to help, his desire to mould the world into his dreams and remake everything.  And his will was strong._

** EmERYS **

_The pain he felt that weighed him down suddenly exploded across his senses, ripping and pulling at his being.  Magic pulled out of him, ripped clean from him again until he slumped, but his gritted teeth dripped spittle down over a triumphant smile._

** “I AM EMERYS, LORD OF DRAGONS.”   **

_The voice was vibrant and strong, not a true part of him again as it was borne from himself.  Utilizing his magic, it swelled strong and fierce, as though a dragon taking flight. Merlin unclenched his teeth slowly and slumped back down into the chains as his strength left him._

“You’re nothing.  You keep taking my magic and it keeps coming back, faster and stronger.  One day, you’re not going to be fast enough in your leeching, and I’m going to be free and destroy you.  For everything you’ve done, you’re still…” _The voice shattered his sullen confidence as it crushed him further down into the chains.  Pain blossomed over him again, but Merlin’s smile remained.  He knew what the armour didn’t._  

** “I AM THE LORD OF DRAGONS.  AND YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A SERVANT.” **

“Strength will tell.  You keep taking mine, but I know what you do not and it strengthens my spirit.  And the dream I serve is stronger than you’ll ever be.”  _Merlin’s shoulders shook, clinking the chains together softly as he laughed in the darkness._

** “I LIVE.” **

“And so do I.  You can’t kill me.  And you’ll never crush me.”  _He was alone, the presence gone.  Merlin got to his feet shakily, feeling the chains.  He gripped them tightly and began to pull them towards him, using all his strength.  They didn’t move, but he tried again.  The armour’s presence was long gone, and he still pulled at the chains, heaving with all his strength until his strength gave out, then waking again when he was strong enough until the burn in his arms became too much for him._

 _And then he stood and pulled again.  In the darkness, he struggled harder and harder, growing stronger as the chains resisted._  

∞Ŧ∞  

Kilgharrah flew, high above the clouds with the armour on his back.  It’s will crushed him for a moment and the great dragon reared up, flapping it’s great wings and holding it hovering in the air.  The arm lifted on the armour, pointing to a flash of red in the trees and then away again, towards the west.  They hung there in a beat of air that surrounded them and something strange came to the great dragon’s senses.  A tiny scent, barely anything at all.  But enough.  Like a dragonfly’s breath in a hurricane, but it was enough.  Kilgharrah scented Merlin.  His eyes pierced the thick foliage and he spotted Arthur amongst the knights.  More importantly, he spotted another figure, who lifted her head and looked straight up into the air at him.  She didn’t tell Arthur, but her hand went to her mouth.  Kilgharrah made his decision and spun in the air, throwing the armour from his shoulders.  He twisted upright again but it only took that moment and he felt the crushing grip of the Dragonlord’s will surround him and drag him down to the earth.  The will broke for a moment as they landed, crashing through the forest trees and smashing about wood and earth.  Kilgharrah gasped a deep breath and held it as he scrambled down, digging his claws deep into the earth and twisting, but the armour was already charging for him.  It held out its hands and the great dragon roared in pain as it gripped him in its clutches and squeezed, ripping at the dragon’s soul with its clawed gauntlets.  Kilgharrah opened one eye towards the embankment created by his fall and watched as the knights of Camelot crested it.  He looked at Morgana as she came over the hill and his eyes lit with hope as he struggled to his feet.  He threw a hand out to her and the armour’s arm flexed, smashing him back down into the dark of unconsciousness.  Arthur swore and dove for his bow and arrow as the guards began to fan out.  One loosed a spear, an admirable shot into the back shoulder plate, where normally the weak join would have been, especially at that angle.  The figure turned and swept out a hand, shattering the line with strewn guardsmen.  Gwaine charged, Percival coming up on his flank and Arthur roaring for the guards to take advantage of any break in the battle.  Morgana drew her sword and hung back at Arthur’s terse nod towards the guards.  The Glass Knight lifted a hand and Gwaine dove forward, under the blast of power that washed towards him, but Percival charged directly into it, and flew back.  Gwaine straightened within sword reach and began to strike at the figure, whipping his sword blade across towards the torso and helm.  The Glass Knight lifted his armoured forearms to take each ringing strike and deflect it.  So brilliant and engrossing were Gwaine’s strikes that the Glass Knight was completely confused when he suddenly dropped away.  The helm lifted up just as Arthur’s blade landed with the full power of his swinging stroke.  The blade shattered across the visor and Arthur landed and rolled.  The figure didn’t halt this time, however, but spun, smashing a glass covered backhand against Gwaine’s rising head, and knocking the knight senseless.  Percival used the twist in the armour’s torso to duck under its extended arm and tackle the heavy figure into the solid trunk of a tree that had been ten feet behind the battle.  The huge knight roared for Arthur, and darted around behind the tree, dragging one of the Glass Knight’s arms and snagging the other one, bracing his foot on the trunk of the tree and roaring as he pulled back.  The Glass Knight’s arms twisted back and the helm moved as Arthur picked up Percival’s dropped sword as he sprung to his feet.  The prince slashed the sword across the glass faceplate, and then pulled back for a thrust.  The Glass Knight didn’t move its head out of the way but surged its arms forward, smashing Percival’s face into the tree and knocking him out.  The sword veered off into the trunk and Arthur grabbed the armour with his raw hands. 

“What do you want?!” he screamed into the unfeeling visor.  The Glass Knight jerked its head forward and slammed into Arthur’s face, smashing him into blackness.  The Glass Knight took two steps forwards toward Morgana and the guards and threw his hands down into the earth, blasting a shockwave towards the red tunic wearing guards.  They were thrown back from the shockwave as Morgana flinched, guarding with her sword.  Suddenly very alone, Morgana stabbed her sword into the dirt and stepped forwards toward the Glass Knight, who didn’t hesitate, but reached out with a vicious hand for her throat. 

∞Ŧ∞  

_He could sense her.  Deep in the darkness, Merlin lifted his head._

“Morgana,” _he breathed._

 _His eyes glowed._  

“Don’t you dare.  Don’t.  You.  Dare.”

∞Ŧ∞  

They stopped, fingers grasping at the air inches from her face.  The armour shuddered and power flared up around him.  Morgana stared at him, watching the energy waves pulse over his helm.  The armour lit up and then darkened, before flashing up again.  The fingers clawed into a fist and the helm twisted as the armour began to shake.  She didn’t dare to hope but it brought her breath cold through her throat as she did indeed hope. Morgana watched the armour crack, near the temple, and then heal itself again. 

“Merlin…?  I’m here, if you are.  You won’t hurt me. You're in love with me.”

The knight staggered back as if she’d dealt it a blow, and the glass rippled.  Morgana unbound her hair and stepped towards him, but the armour staggered back out of her reach.

“Making love with you was the only thing that felt right in a world where everything is wrong.  Do you remember it, Merlin?  I do.  I don’t think of much else, alone in my room at night, wishing you were there.  You were so gentle.  It was the first time in so long that I’d felt something so beautiful.  I felt then what I know now, Merlin.”  She lifted her chin and smiled at the armour, which shivered as the wood was splintered underneath it, pushing forward like something was trying to get out from behind it, pushing harder and harder against the power of the armour.  The glass rippled again and split apart, the wood twisting out of the way as she stared at the pale chest revealed, covered in sweat for a moment.  The glass began to move back to cover the skin again and Morgana reached forward, spreading her hand over the skin near his heart, and the armour moaned shakily as it sunk to its knees before her. 

∞Ŧ∞  

_The chains swept about him, but Merlin tensed his shoulders and squeezed.  Feeling his muscles responding, the warlock took deep breaths, charging himself until he filled his entire being with magical power.  He began to glow and light stripped back the darkness, beating it back.  He started to shake and could feel his power burning within him, trying to escape.  There was a huge crack and Merlin’s head lifted up to the ceiling.  The receding darkness showed him a thick crack in the stone overhead.  He gritted his teeth.  It wasn’t enough.  He needed her.  That’s what it was.  He admitted it.  He needed her because he loved her.  He’d always loved her.  He felt her warmth and somehow his heart was beating stronger and faster than ever before, synced with hers as she touched him._

∞Ŧ∞  

“Come back to me, Merlin.  I need you.”  The light flickered across the armour and cracks began to appear as it tried to heal again over him.  The fists were clenched hard at his side and spider cracks filled the glass even as they healed, looking like fine lines racing over the body.  It was right on the verge of breaking, and Morgana smiled encouragingly, even as she sobbed at the agony she could feel him in. 

“It’s okay, Merlin.  It’s been a bad dream, but it’s been too long.  Wake up. You owe me a kiss.”  She stepped up just as Arthur lifted his head, blood pouring from the wound at the peak of his forehead.  She tilted the helm up to her face lightly with just her fingertips and smiled at the face plate, breaking her careworn features like a sun throws light to the dawn sky.  Her white teeth bit her bottom lip and she laughed girlishly as she leaned in.  Arthur struggled against the pain in his forehead and sat up to his knees.  Morgana kissed at the faceplate, which melted away at her touch to reveal pale, sweating lips that gulped air as the figure shook.  She smiled and breathed lowly, before pushing her hands forward and kissing him with carnal possessiveness. 

Confused, Arthur stared as the armour began to vibrate.

∞Ŧ∞  

_The room shook around Merlin, and the glass armour appeared, shaking and cracking in front of him like an animated corpse, reaching out to him in a vain effort to stop him.  Merlin surged up as he felt Morgana coming closer, feeling his old desire for her fill him again as he felt her fingertips slide up under his chin and lift his face to her.  He saw her eyes, beautiful beyond belief and her smile, her heartbreaking smile and how he ached for her.  He gritted his teeth as the chains held him for a moment and then he was free, the chains shattering against him and falling away.  The Glass Knight’s armour drew its sword as he charged towards it, but the swinging blade shattered against his glowing form just as the chains had done.  He barrelled into the armour, and it exploded away from him.  Through the agony of his pain, Merlin’s senses opened up as though he’d plunged into an ocean of her._

He could smell the damp of the forest in her hair and feel the lingering warmth of the dappled sunlight on her cheeks.  Her cream soft lips joined his and her fingers pushed up, sloughing the cracking glass helm off his head.  The armour crystallized for an instant before it exploded in a ball of light, destroyed by the both of them.  Merlin breathed in deeply of Morgana and felt the world again.

∞Ŧ∞  

Soft hands with hard worked callouses moved in wonder through her hair, feeling the tresses pulling through his fingertips and sighing.  Morgana opened her eyes and Merlin’s blue orbs stared at her in pained happiness.  The armour was gone, leaving him in only the dirty thin cotton pants he’d been wearing months ago.  They were somehow on the ground, lying on the leaves against one another as Merlin stared at Morgana and smiled. 

“You brought me back.”  She bit her bottom lip and nodded, her eyes filled with tears. 

“Who else is going to love me like you do?”  His smile was wide and engulfing at her whisper, and she cried as she kissed him again.  About them, the others were beginning to stir, and Morgana’s eyes widened. 

“You need to run.  Find me when you can, but for now, you need to run.  They won’t understand.”  Merlin looked stricken but he couldn’t argue with Morgana.  They’d have to work the details out later.  He looked up and away, seeing Kilgharrah struggling to his feet and beckoning him.  Indecision tore him for a moment, until Morgana kissed him again. 

“I’ll meet you.  Send me a raven.”  He darted away as Gwaine began to stir, and leapt up onto the dragon’s paw and jumped behind him.  The great beast took a jump and clawed his way into the sky. 

Suddenly alone again, Morgana smiled to herself and turned to Arthur, who raised his head and locked her with his eyes.  The smile fell from her face and she went to help him to his feet, but he waved her off and directed her toward the horses that had strayed with the landing of the dragon and the commotion of the battle.  Her eyes went to the sky as she watched Kilgharrah fly away, carrying her hopes with him. 

“Merlin… I love you.”


	4. Ámundian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana has broken Merlin free from the Glass Knight, but what happens next? She now faces the consequences of defying Uther, and cannot help but admit that she and the Glass Knight are lovers.  
> Arthur must finally face the truth behind Merlin's magic and whether he can look at his friend the same way he did before remains to be seen. As Arthur faces his own internal battle about his feelings for Gwen, things become clear to the young Prince that his feelings won't be so easily denied.  
> Merlin's recovery from the Glass Knight's prison is slow, and torturous. His magic is drained and locked within him, and the young warlock makes a discovery that could mean changing the fabric of Albion's existence, and he comes head to head with Kilgharrah over it. He encounters old foes and old friends as he tries to regain his strength. What he finds and the truths he uncovers will change his life forever.  
> Everything comes to a head and Merlin will not stand idly by but instead, takes up the trident for war.  
> 

The great hall of Camelot had been many things.  Audience of the King, Dance Hall, Banquet and Feast Holder.  Morgana looked about, wondering.  When she’d vied for the throne, she’s never really thought about what it represented to her; just simply that it had held the throne she’d seen as hers.  Nowadays, there was simply nothing to it.  It sat, almost sadly watching the proceedings.  Morgana could feel the growing sadness in the hall, as though the spirits of the past kings were watching, and weeping.  But whether for her, or their legacy, she didn’t know.  Silently as Uther ranted at her, she vowed that she wouldn’t break in her resolve.  Some things were worth it.  It had taken Merlin to show her that.  But steel filled every inch of her spirit as she looked at Uther.  The wrongs done to her had darkened her soul until she was embittered.  But that self-same strength that sustained her now could just have easily have raised her above the pettiness that had consumed her.  She’d lost herself to the need for revenge.  She’d become her father, but didn’t have the wisdom or years to endure through it as herself in the process.  The man raving in front of her held the dark temper in check barely in his eyes.  Morgana felt like crying out of the pity she could feel for the man she’d once hated.  He had nothing left.  She didn’t understand how she’d ever wanted to take anything from him.  He was a shell of a man, lost in his own blind hatred.  Morgana vowed that her past tears would be her present strength, just as Merlin had said what seemed like so many chapters ago in her life.

“We’re not alone, Father.”  So cunning, thought Morgana.  Arthur, as per usual, was only at his best when dealing with their volatile father.  He didn’t play for Morgana’s sake, but instead directed their father’s thought towards the impropriety.  The scandal of what he was saying.  The indignity. 

“She was seen, Arthur.  Pawing at that filthy sorcerer like some common tavern wench!”  Uther spat the last with admirable venom, but Morgana found herself drifting in attention again.  As usual when her thoughts wandered, she thought of Merlin.  It bemused her, but she didn’t dare to let the smile come to her face.  Something of it must have come through, though, even unbidden, because Uther’s rage filled face suddenly filled her vision as he whirled on her. 

“Have you given yourself to him?”  Arthur looked appalled and Morgana’s pale cheeks drew colour in the cold.

“Father, you can’t…”

“I have.”  Morgana glanced at Arthur and Gwen, standing behind him.  Her maid’s soft, caring look made her sigh and she dropped her gaze, remembering that night in Merlin’s cot, where it was just the two of them, and no titles or clothes between them.  Merlin’s dark eyes and panting breath blooming across her in the cold, the scalding heat of his lips on her skin, and she blushed.  Gwen smiled as if she knew what was going through her mind, and Uther turned away, disgusted.  He had his hand on his sword and snarled wordlessly as Arthur blinked in shock.

“Did you…”  Uther’s mouth twisted as if the words pained him and he couldn’t form them.  Morgana crossed her arms in front of her as she remembered Merlin’s ribs under her nails and tried to focus.  It was difficult.  He’d been shy and gentle and coaxed feelings in her that she’d never thought to want. Uther’s teeth pressed together in his anger.  “Did you bed him?”  Morgana locked her green eyes onto her father’s pale orbs and raised her chin. 

“With the fervour in which he took me, yes, I took him.  He as much as I.”  Arthur turned back to Gwen and caught her happy, soft smile.  Uther snarled wordlessly and drew his sword, slashing it across the wine decanter and spilling it across the stone floor.  Two pageboys flinched in shock and then darted forwards to clean it.  Uther watched them and his drawn sword shook.  He looked down at it and then cast it away.  The sparks as it careened off the wall seemed to pull his anger out of him.  His hands dropped to his hips and he turned, his eyes dull and all traces of his heat gone.

“Very well.  You’ve proven your loyalties, Morgana.  You’ve broken your oaths to me.”  Morgana’s jaw rippled as she forced her own temper back down, unsuccessfully. 

“I did not, Father.  How have I broken any oaths to you?  I forswore all claims to the Pendragon name and my title.  I am nothing more than a courtier now.  Barely that.  How have I broken an oath, any oath?  All I did was fall…”

“If you say “love,” he snarled at her.  “Then I will send for the headsmen.  You’re stained, and broken, Morgana.  Giving yourself to this… it’s the lowest form of conduct.  I can’t even look at you.  It would be as well to burn you for the witch you are.”  Arthur stepped forwards, his anger in his face if not his voice.

“Father, that’s not…”  Morgana shook her head once and he trailed off. 

“It’s alright, Arthur.  I submit to my lord, holding to my oaths.”  She turned to Uther again.  “I’m at your mercy, my King.”  He looked at her with eyes bright with temper. 

“I don’t have any for traitors.”  His cutting tone silenced her retort and her lips closed tersely.  Uther looked to the guards standing inside the huge double doors that led into the great hall.  “Take her away.”  Morgana held herself upright and her back straight as a lance as she was led out.  Arthur kept his silence for a moment as the great doors closed slowly, Gwen catching Arthur’s eye just as the great doors locked her out.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting, Father?”  Uther slumped down into his throne and drained the goblet of wine beside him.

 **“** We can’t afford the weakness of indulgence anymore, Arthur.  Camelot has by and large escaped the turmoil that’s engulfed the Five Kingdoms.  But that’s not going to last forever.  Odin seeks your death; Sarram eyes the other kingdoms as ripe for the picking while Caerleon gathers his men for alliance or invasion as he pleases.  Caerleon’s alliance with us will hold, but if Sarram and Odin unite while Cenred’s bastards vie for the throne, then we may lose what little security we have from the south.  Have you any news of the lower borders?”

Uther’s tones had calmed significantly as he spoke further on about the southern patrols.  His temper appeared to have burnt out far quicker than what Arthur had anticipated, which he took to be a good sign.  Somewhat mollified by his father’s ashamed look, Arthur scratched his head in thought.  As Uther regained his temper more, he’d no doubt chastise Morgana and ignore her for a time before remembering that he loved her.  He might have need of a little nudge to remember that she was his pride and joy.  He shrugged a little and considered his information, keeping in the back of his mind that his father’s temper was always tricky to handle where Morgana was involved. 

“The usual political manoeuvring in the wake of a vacated throne.  Cenred was always the biggest dog in that particular area, so there’s a lot of scraps suddenly up for grabs.  He also spent as much time in the bed chambers as he did at war.  There’s no telling how many contenders for the throne he… whelped about the land.  He never took a wife or named an heir.  He always did think about the “now” instead of looking ahead.”  Uther gave a grunt of consideration. 

“How many dead?  Do we know?”

“Closest estimate is certainly more than a dozen, perhaps as many as two.”

“It’s a volatile situation,” Uther conceded.  He glanced at his son, then away again, out the window.  “I want you to ride south tomorrow, tour the garrisons and outposts.  Make sure they’re ready for war, and have suitable considerations for a fast messenger service.  Take some of Horace’s pigeons with you.”  Arthur gave a short bow and Uther waved a hand in dismissal.  The prince cleared his throat gently.   

“And speaking of volatile situations…?”  Uther scowled but it held no real menace.  He took a deep breath and looked back at Arthur, his face grave but resigned. 

“I’ll deal with Morgana when I’ve… calmed down somewhat.”  Arthur thought about that for a moment.  His father regaining his temper would mean that at least Morgana had a chance to talk with him.  Uther enraged was never one to speak to, but if he at least calmed down enough before he spoke to her, then perhaps her newfound reticence would help to mollify the king.  He bowed low and smiled.

“Thank you, Father.”  The prince straightened and turned, striding out of the hall.  Gwen met him just outside the doors, her smooth cheeks glistening with tears.   Arthur shut the doors behind him and smiled at her reassuringly.  “I’ll make sure nothing happens to her, Gwen.  I promise.  Do you want to come with me to see her?”  Gwen smiled and curtseyed.  It didn’t seem right to Arthur that she was solicitous.  There was always more the Gwen than what she revealed. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”  She ducked her head and let him go past, leading the way.  They were silent as they moved down towards the dungeons.  The group of guardsmen had only barely shut the iron doors behind Morgana when Arthur and Gwen thanked them and stood by the bars.  Morgana gave a soft smile at seeing the two of them together. 

“Father will calm down soon enough, Morgana.  He just doesn’t understand.”  His words were comforting and reassuring, but puzzling none the less.  Morgana leaned forwards on to the bars and stared at her brother.

“Understand what, Arthur?”  He shrugged nonchalantly, and Morgana’s eyes moved to Gwen, who was rolling her own eyes.  Arthur was playing it down for all that it was worth, pretending he completely understood.  While Morgana found it tiresome, Gwen thought it was endearingly cute.

“I get why you kept it a secret, Morgana.  Why you didn’t want to tell me the truth about him.  But if you had of come to me, we might have been able to do something about it.  It’s not his fault.  He couldn’t help it.  Bloody fool buys a costume and it winds up being cursed.  Trust Merlin.”  He shook his head ruefully and Morgana bit her lip.  His assumption was wrong, but it would serve.  It would mean that Merlin didn’t have magic.  And if he didn’t have magic according to…  She lowered her eyes sadly.  It didn’t matter, really.  Merlin was long gone.  Her chest ached.  Gwen took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Arthur’s eyes wandered momentarily. 

“Merlin’s the Glass Knight, isn’t he, Morgana?”  She said it with such certainty that Morgana could only smile softly and nod.  Arthur turned his attention back to Gwen’s eyes. 

“Well done, Guinevere.  But you didn’t see her kiss him in the forest, so how did you know?”  She shrugged girlishly and her dimples showed for a moment in her smile. 

“The dance.  I’d been teaching Merlin how to dance and he always missed up that pivot.  He keeps going right instead of left.  Exactly like the Glass Knight did.  He even stumbled the same way.  I knew it was Merlin then.”  Arthur smiled proudly and turned back to Morgana with a tilt of his head towards Gwen that had her blushing under the regard of the Prince.   Morgana sighed slightly and put her head against the bars, closing her eyes.

“I never expected it, you know.  I… I didn’t mind swearing off my claim to the throne, after everything I’d done.  I owed that at least to the House of Pendragon.  I was little more than a servant, I thought.  I didn’t see the harm in just… letting myself fall for him.”  Gwen reached out and put her hand over Morgana’s in support as Arthur commiserated for a quiet moment.  The corner of his mouth twitched as he straightened and moved to look his sister full in the face.

“But…  MERLIN?”  It seemed such a common place complaint that Morgana actually laughed. 

“Yes, MERLIN.  He’s got a lot about him that you don’t see, Arthur.”  The blonde Prince smiled. 

“Yes, that’s because he’s normally running away,” he pointed out, smugly.  Morgana gave an arch smile.

“Not from me.”  Arthur made a face and leaned his shoulder against the bars, confusion on his face. 

“But…  I mean…  MERlin…  You, well, I guess if you put some effort into it, you clean up alright when you’re of a mind to, but Merlin…  I mean his ears look like trophy handles.  And he’s skinny as a rake.  And he’s a complete and utter fool almost all the time.  And he has no idea at ALL how to talk to women.  Explain to me how that buffoon is attractive at all?”  Three guards walked around the corner and Arthur’s eyes hardened and his face changed.  Gwen, staring at him as she usually did, watched the interplay between artful confusion and rock stern warrior with interest.  It seemed Arthur was more than happy to play the fool to keep things light for Morgana so that she wouldn’t concentrate on her circumstances.  The guards turned around and left almost immediately under the prince’s withering gaze, and Gwen looked back at Morgana who was looking at Arthur fondly.  She threw a quick glance to Gwen and winked conspiratorially at her.

“There’s a certain appeal to someone with enough sense to LEAVE a battle unless there’s no other choice.  Isn’t that right, Gwen?”  Morgana’s artfully innocuous tone had Arthur’s eyes wide and staring at Gwen, who blushed.

“I only kissed him once,” she stated defensively.  “And it was because I was happy he was alive, and he was my friend.  That’s all!” 

“You’ve snogged him?” queried Arthur flatly.   Gwen turned away loftily.

“I hardly think this is the time or place to discuss how wonderful a kisser Merlin is, Arthur.”  Morgana covered her mouth as Arthur spluttered in disbelief.

“Wonderful kisser?”  Gwen refused to look at him as he threw his hands wide in disbelief.  Morgana giggled and smiled to Gwen, who flashed her a quick grin as Arthur’s face grew serious for a moment. 

“Father will cool down.  You know what he’s like.  He’s already said he’d talk to you when he had hold of his temper again.”  Morgana took a deep breath and put on a brave face. 

“I’ve been locked up for my attitude before, Arthur.  It’s never hurt me beyond my limits.”  She fell silent for a moment, her thoughts fragmented until she gave a small shrug, her voice a whisper.  “I didn’t think there’d be any shame in being with someone just because I wanted to.”  Arthur locked eyes with Gwen, giving her an intimate, wistful smile. 

“One day, I’m going to get married.  It’s not going to be for some political alliance or even for the Kingdom at all, but for me.  I wouldn’t begrudge anyone that kind of opportunity for happiness.”  It held there until Gwen looked away, biting her smile so hard her cheeks hurt. 

“But you’re not the king yet, Arthur.  One day, hopefully.  But not yet.”  Her careful tone let him know she didn’t want to wait for that day, but would for him.  He nodded; his face regretful. 

“True,” he agreed, turning back to Morgana’s sad green eyes.  “And I’m not even the Prince now so much as I am Father’s inspection monkey.”  Morgana narrowed her eyes as she tried to piece that together, but couldn’t resist teasing him again.

“It’s your ears, they’re so monkey like.” 

“Says you, in love with ears the size of my head.”

“But they suit his little face.”  Arthur rolled his eyes melodramatically.

“I will never understand you.”  His face grew solemn again.  “You really love him, don’t you?”  She leaned onto the bars, smiling helplessly. 

“I really do, Arthur.  It’s not what he looks like even though yes, I think he’s very cute.  Maybe it’s BECAUSE he’s not anything like a knight.  He’s not huge, or muscle-bound; he’s no warrior.  But he’s there anyway, Arthur, right by your side.  Always.  He’s brave and wise and kind.  He’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.  Except for one, of course.”  She reached through the bars and held Gwen’s hand for a moment.  Arthur rolled his eyes again, but it was an obvious ploy.  He felt pleased that someone could bring Morgana that kind of happiness.  His hand twitched beside Gwen’s but their fingers barely touched.  It was enough.  Lightening shot up his arm at that small contact, raising gooseflesh along his forearm, and Gwen gave a little sound of shock and moved away, but her eyes were bright and happy as she did so. 

“I’m heading out shortly for this inspection tour to the South.  I’ll be back in a month or so.  Try and mollify Father, Morgana.  But if he hasn’t released you when I get back, I’ll come here and break the door open myself.”  Morgana leaned back and nodded to her brother with a fond smile. 

“I know, Arthur.”  The prince scowled at her and then his brow lifted as he bowed slightly to Gwen. 

“My Lady.”

“My Lord.”  She gave him a demure curtsey and he put a supportive hand on Morgana’s before heading back towards the entranceway.  He stopped at the door and looked back at them. 

“You’re wrong, you know.  About Merlin.  He’s exactly like a knight.  If he was someone that people would put their faith in, their trust in?  I’d almost be willing…”  He shrugged and nodded to them before he opened the thick door and was gone.  Gwen waited until the latch slipped closed on the door before she turned back to Morgana. 

“I… I wanted to get you something to help with this,” murmured the maid.  She handed over a silk napkin gently to Morgana, who took it and closed her hands about it protectively, feeling the shape and trying to ignore the prickling sensation burning in her eyes.  She unfolded the silk and lifted the glass rose up to the small window of light, staring at it in gratitude.  She tucked it away into her bodice and felt the glass warm after a moment.  The calming scent of roses lifted to her nose, and she turned back to Gwen, awkwardly reaching through the bars to hold her friend in appreciation.

“Thank you, Gwen.  I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”  Gwen looked away, tears flowing down her soft cheeks. 

“I’m not… I don’t trust that the King’s anger will be calmed so quickly.  I think we both know he sometimes acts with his temper and not his crown.”  Morgana nodded slowly, remembering Gwen’s father with a pang.  Both of them had felt the lash of Uther’s rage more than once.

“Sometimes,” she echoed softly in agreement.  Gwen darted a look back to the closed door. 

“If you need to…” she waved her hand in a vaguely theatrical swirl.  “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get out of Camelot.”  Morgana’s eyes widened along with her smile as she realised what Gwen meant.

“I can’t use magic, Gwen.  I swore an oath to Uther.  On the Old Religion itself.”  Gwen pursed her lips and gestured to the cage. 

“He’s obviously not holding up his end of the bargain.  He doesn’t consider your oath held, why bother?”  Morgana sighed and shook her head. 

“His opinion doesn’t actually matter.  I signed it in blood, vowing by the Old Religion itself.  If I broke that, and used Magic against Camelot, I could lose my power or be destroyed or come to any number of horrid ends.  Uther might hate magic, but he knows it’s rules.  Or someone close to him does.”  Gwen began to pace in front of the bars, and Morgana sat down on the edge of the bed.  The maid’s usually graceful features narrowed slyly. 

“Can we get word to Merlin?”  The question seemed to come from left field, but Morgana shook her head.

“How?  We don’t even know where he is.”  Gwen twirled her hand again and Morgana shook her head.

“I don’t know how far that reaches, or even where to start.  Morgause and I could contact one another over some distance, but without knowing even what kingdom Merlin is in, there’s no way to know how to reach him.”

“Gaius?”  Again, Morgana shook her head for a moment, before she considered.  It was possible that Merlin had gotten word to his mentor somehow. 

“Perhaps, but what for?”  Gwen twirled her hand and Morgana stood up from her bed. 

“So he can…”  She left it hanging as she twirled her hand, and Morgana’s blank features slipped onto her face in caution.

“I don’t…”

“So he can use magic to get you out,” huffed Gwen impatiently.  Morgana took a deep breath and her mouth worked, but nothing came out.

“Merlin doesn’t have…” she began automatically and Gwen glared at her.

“I watched that knight use magic, Morgana.  And Merlin’s always got some miraculous story about how things just HAPPENED to go his way.  Arthur might think that Merlin was cursed by the armour, and that’s fine...”  She clasped her hands calmly in front of her and cleared her throat.  “I’ll never care, Morgana.  He’s kept many of my secrets and I swore I’d always keep his.  Even before all of this.  He was my friend before anything else.” 

“You mean when you snogged him,” teased Morgana, a breath too quickly.  She smiled to show she was teasing, but Gwen knew her friend and understood the tightness around her eyes all too well. 

“He’s my best friend, Morgana.  It took us a little while to figure that out.  Okay, it took ME a little while to figure that out.  Merlin’s always been very brotherly toward me.  Or I guess what a brother should be like.  I love Elyan, but Merlin’s the one I talk to when I need to.  He’s my friend; protective and insistent, yet also firm that there was nothing else between us.  Understanding of feelings and not being cruel or mean, but just there for me.  He’s a wonderful man, and I couldn’t be happier that you’ve found one another.”  She ended with a smile and Morgana shrugged guiltily. 

“Yes, he’s… He’s very special.  In so many ways.”  Morgana clasped her hands in front of her.  She found it so difficult, talking about Merlin.  But this was Gwen.  The Heart of Camelot.  “You know me.  I’ve never hesitated for a fight, or needed more strength, not really.  I always thought I could fight any battle that came to me.  I’m not less than what or who I was before.  But I can see Merlin…  And if you look and really see him, see who he is when he thinks no one is watching, he’s a completely different person.  He doesn’t care about gratitude or fame or power.  He’s devoted himself utterly to a vision that we can’t ever comprehend fully.  The Glass Knight… “She broke off in frustration and began to pace in the cell as Gwen leaned against the bars, almost swapping their nervous pacing.

“It was… was his unrestrained… wishes?”  She groped blindly to explain her feelings.  “Freeing the druids.  Helping them.  Not hurting Camelot, but just… doing things, changing things.  And all it accomplished was he was declared an enemy of Camelot.  And a harsh tyrant to rule the druids.  He is to the Druids what Arthur is to Camelot.  And to see him… take it all on his shoulders.  To accept that burden for years of servitude, in order to maybe change things for the good… in the long run.  That kind of strength… of devotion.  I… he amazes me, Gwen.”  She gave a helpless laugh and ran her hand through her hair, almost shyly thinking about his hands and lips moving across the thick strands.  “I was wrong, and he showed me that.  Here I was, embittered and angry with the slights I’d thought the world had slung at me like thick mud, and he was there, just standing there, doing the right thing in nearly every way.  Giving up everything he ever wanted for the dream of what Arthur might be.  Damn him if I didn’t know him.  How things would have been different if I’d given him all the chances that he gave me.  If only I’d understood earlier.  If only I’d known.”  Gwen stared at her and nodded in encouragement.

“So...  If we can get word to him?”  Morgana locked eyes with her friend and realised that Gwen was with her, no matter what.  She straightened and smoothed out her dress. 

“I don’t know how.  His magic might be gone, sucked away by that blasted glass armour.  And the last I saw of him, he was flying away on a dragon, heading north.”  Gwen blinked.

“He was what?”  Morgana gave a wan smile and shrugged. 

“Welcome to the real Merlin.”

∞₸∞

Kilgharrah landed in the courtyard of the Fisher King’s Palace in the stormy darkness.  He could taste the salt on the air from the broken seas beyond the wall as the rain unleashed in the ocean winds.  Cold was settling in as he stared into the darkness, breathing fire about and announcing his presence.  The wind howled back at him for several moments until two shapes slunk out towards him, eerily encrusted in salt and looking demonic even to the dragon’s heat sensitive vision.  They slunk forwards like the predators they were and Kilgharrah snarled at them in warning.  He revealed the unconscious Merlin on his back and the wyverns mewled at him curiously.  The warlock slumped down and tumbled off his shoulders, but the wyverns came forward to brace him gently and keep him from the cold, salt ravaged stones.  The wyverns bowed their heads to Kilgharrah in deference and slunk up towards Merlin, covering him from the weather as the storm raged.  The unconscious Dragonlord did not move as Kilgharrah settled in, covering the wyverns and the warlock with his wings and closing his eyes.

∞₸∞

The next day, Elyan and Arthur rode out with a small group of mounted guards towards the southern posts.  Gwen had farewelled them chastely in the courtyard, and only the knights had caught her steely command to take care of one another.  Her winsome curtsey had caught Arthur by surprise and he felt himself grinning foolishly as he remounted his horse until he looked at Elyan, who sat stone faced and stoic.  They’d urged their horses onwards at a brisk trot and after about an hour, Arthur reached into his backpack and unrolled a fresh map he’d had copied of the Southern Kingdom.

“What do you think, Elyan?”  His fellow knight waited for a moment as Arthur continued to stare at the map studiously.

“Sire?”

“Start from the west side and curve back around or start from the east and hug the Orknean Escarpments?”  Elyan shrugged as he looked up at the sun.

“The escarpments shelter many bandits this time of year, sire.”  Arthur scoffed for a moment as he looked behind him at the heavily armoured group of guardsmen.  

“Is that a warning, or a challenge?” he grinned.  Elyan’s stoicism broke as he shared a smile with his Prince. 

“I’d rather not have to face my sister when we get back to Camelot if something happened to you.” 

“Is that right?” Arthur queried, looking a bit lost.  He considered it as Elyan smiled and looked ahead.

“I won’t tell her how you feel, sire.”  Arthur smiled as he continued to study the map.

“I’m sure she already knows, Elyan.  She knows everything else.”  Elyan smiled and nodded his head in time to the horse’s steps. 

“True that, sire.  Gwen is one of the only people I’ve ever met who lets her heart lead her head and somehow manages to come out the better for it.”  Arthur tucked the map back into his saddle bag and secured it. 

“The world is a better place for it.  If there were more people like your sister in this world, we might be able to give up our swords, Elyan.”  Gwen’s brother scoffed dramatically.

“Heresy.  What use would we be then, my lord?”  He hid his grin as Arthur laughed.

“The knights, you mean?”  Elyan kept his face straight but his eyes were bright with laughter.

“Yes, Sire.  The knights, of course.  You could teach dancing, I suppose, my Lord.”  The corner of his mouth pricked up and Arthur grinned at him.  They continued on in silence for a while until the branching pathways leading to the east and west came into view.

“Beardon has approached me about your father’s forge,” offered Arthur tentatively.  He said nothing more as Elyan considered it, before he put his hand on his sword hilt. 

“I’ve never had father’s gift.  He was a genius.  I never had the patience.  I’m always ready to swing a blade, but never to make one.”  Arthur shrugged.

“We’re all shadows of our fathers, Elyan.  With Respect to Tom, I’m glad I’ve got you by my side. Would Baerdon treat it with the respect Tom deserved?”  Elyan didn’t hesitate.

“Without question, my lord.”  He looked at Arthur for a moment, and took in the prince’s stiff back and withdrawn eyes.   “I don’t hold you responsible, Arthur.”  He stiffened at Elyan’s forgiveness, and shook his head without meeting his eyes. 

“I do, Elyan.  I should have stood up to Father, but I let it happen.  I don’t say this now that Gwen… both you and Gwen have come to mean so much to me.  I say it because it was wrong then as it is now.  It’s no doubt small recompense, but I’ll never let that happen again.”  His jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth, and Elyan reached across and clapped him on the shoulder firmly.

“You’re a good man, Arthur.”  The prince looked at the knight and gratefully nodded.

“So they tell me.  I’ve still got a lot to make up for.”  He looked back away and Elyan slowed his horse as they came to the divergent pathways leading through the forest. 

“Seems like you need a distraction, my lord.  Shall we go via the escarpments?”  Arthur straightened in his saddle and nodded as he shook off the malaise. 

“Sounds like an idea to me, Elyan.  Lead the way, Sir Knight.”

∞₸∞

Uther watched as the small figures in the distance turned to the east and disappeared behind the trees.  His pensive features didn’t even to turn to the page beside him as he lifted his goblet grimly. 

“Send for the Amatean Ambassador.  And Geoffrey of Monmouth as well.  Tell them to meet me in the council chambers.”  The page nearly ran into Gwen as they met at the door, and she stepped aside with a smile.  She hurried in after the page was gone and genuflected towards Uther, though she didn’t meet his eyes.

“You sent for me, your Majesty?”  She kept her head low and the king turned to her, taking in her appearance as though he’d never seen her before. 

“You’re a seamstress as well as Morgana’s maid, yes?”  She nodded.

“Yes, your Majesty.  I make all of the Lady Morgana’s dressed, I’m honoured to say.” 

“She’s not a lady anymore,” he rebuked her sharply.  Gwen curtseyed in apology, even as she ground her teeth.

“I… beg your Majesty’s forgiveness.  I meant no offense,” she said, keeping her tone fearful and deferential.  Uther grunted.

“The Royal Haberdasher is at your disposal for materials.  You will make her a dress fitting for an offering of marriage.  Do not bother with the white.  We don’t want to misconstrue her virtues or lack thereof.”  Gwen tried to keep her shock still, but some of it must have shown on her face.  The king’s eyes narrowed.

“I... yes, you’re majesty.  I’ll get to it.  I may need her for fittings though, my lord.”  He waved a hand and turned away.

“I’ll see to it that you have access to her, but it is necessary for her to know nothing of it.” 

“I understand, your majesty.” 

“See that you do,” he said, dismissingly her.  Gwen chewed her lip, looking out towards the forest that Arthur was leaving through.  She couldn’t get word to Arthur, and she still didn’t know where Merlin was.  Her first stop had to be to Gaius.  She needed help, and she had nowhere else to turn.

∞₸∞

Merlin woke up in the depths of warm dragon skin.  He’d seen enough of the surprisingly soft leather to know he was leaning against Kilgharrah, and could feel the ancient dragon’s heartbeat.  He could smell the metallic tang of the dragon’s scales and the overwhelming scent of harsh rock salt and water.  He remembered the frantic flight and the feel of Morgana’s lips and began to shiver.  He wore only the dirty thin cotton pants he’d been wearing for months inside the glass armour, that he’d been wearing so long ago on Gaius’s table when he’d fallen ill.  He felt stronger than when he’d woken from that nightmare, but needed to be clean, and soon.  He struggled to get up and found himself entangled in draconian skin.  In the low light of Kilgharrah’s sunlit wing, merlin could make out a strange figure of four clawed legs poking into the air, cradling a wyvern’s head which opened its eyes and blinked at him.  As he pushed against it to get to his feet, the legs kicked in the air and the other wyvern rolled back onto its feet and looked around, bewildered.  It mewled in confusion to its brother, who pointed to Merlin with its head.  For his part, Merlin spoke Kilgharrah’s name and put a hand on the deeply breathing flank.  Kilgharrah drew his wing back to reveal a slowly lightening dawn in a ruined stone tower as he unfurled slowly, straightening and stretching with an almighty groan.

The wyverns bounded away, clawing up the walls of the stone tower and leaping off into flight in search of breakfast.  Kilgharrah wordlessly followed, though with a bit more grace.  Merlin rubbed the gooseflesh away from his arms and haltingly moved out of the tower.  There was still much of the palace that he hadn’t explored the last time he was here, and made his way toward the throne room where he’d fulfilled the prophecy of bringing peace to the Fisher King.  Climbing that tower, he found the door that had led them into the throne room and wordlessly placed a hand on the ancient stone, thinking of all that had happened since then.  Gathering himself, Merlin kept going up the long winding staircase and began to explore.  As the sun neared its zenith he found himself at the top of the tower, opening into an enormous chamber.  He found huge chests of clothes amid the dust and debris and shook some out, dressing as warmly as he could in the musty furs.    He beat the dust out of the bed sheets as best he could but they were old, thick bear skins of white, soft fur that seemed determined to hold everything it could.  He was tired, but managed to light a fire in the hearth that smoked horribly for nearly ten minutes once restarted.   Eventually, he was either satisfied with the condition of the bed enough to sleep in it or too tired to care.  Taking a small charred stick and a piece of parchment that had been stored in a weatherproof box on a small writing desk, Merlin began to explore the other levels of the royal apartments.  He noted the windows and ocean view, and the dragon and wyverns happily enjoying the sheltered bay’s numerous fish. 

He mapped out a library that seemed more for personal use than anything else, complete with a small collection of vintage wines that would have had Uther as happy as a sow in slops.  There were several classical tales he recognized, in well-worn leather and bound parchments, as well as many that he didn’t know well.  The glass floor had cut into the very bedrock of the mountain, and the sheer breadth of the glass under his feet made Merlin think of magic or unending wealth, which could accomplish much the same thing in the long run.  The glass floor showed clearly the rock it held onto, as well as the teal ocean below, lit beautifully by the sun overhead.  There was something intimately personal about the room though, as if it were the private chambers of the King and Queen, in those rare moments of solitude that a royal personage may be granted.  A sturdily made double cradle sat forgotten in the corner, and Merlin felt not fear or unease at the memories lying around him, but bolstered.  Here was not the place for a king and queen, but for a man and wife.  For a family.  It was comforting. 

Adjoining the library was another glass bottomed room, this one etched painstakingly with the continents of the five kingdoms and beyond.  At the very middle of the cut-out stood a stone pillar supporting a large bowl  filled with water as a centrepiece.  The mirrored surface reflected the etched ceiling, showing the stars that normally circled overhead.  The glass looking out into the ocean was also etched, but this showed clear against the backdrop of the water.  This glass too was etched, showing a huge cavern under the ocean.  Merlin watched as Kilgharrah rose above the bay with giant wing strokes and shuddered, throwing water from his gleaming scales as he landed on the stone beach and stretched out in the sun.  The wyverns were nowhere to be seen. 

He continued to explore the castle, and found a tightly winding spiral staircase of obsidian hidden behind a tapestry in the hallway leading back to the small library.  He followed it down and found a strange room that looked out to the bay, what seemed to be many levels below the two glass cut-out rooms.  It held many strange stones and metals, woods and artefacts in jars and a strangely compelling metal grate on the ground that surrounded an obsidian bench.  He heard claws on stone and turned around as the two wyverns came through the gap looking out over the bay and landed, watching him with interest as he stood next to the bench.  One of them came to him and laid down at his feet while the other turned and looked out over the bay like a guard hound.  Surrounded by objects of magic, he opened the tome nearest to him and began to read.

∞₸∞

_“Please… stop…  beg you… no!  MERLIN!”_

He sat bolt upright, gasping in air in the darkness as the wyverns screeched in warning around him, clearly unsettled.  They looked about, trying to find something to lash out at, but Merlin was lost.  He wasn’t sure where he was, and threw his hands out.  The wyverns spat out venom, which hissed as it hit the stone floor, turning their red eyes about, looking for the threat which had unnerved Merlin.  The warlock rolled to his feet, away from the obsidian bench he’d fallen asleep beside. 

 ** _“Forbaernan!”_**   He threw his hand out, but there was no heat, no light, and no flame to answer his call.  Merlin searched deep within himself, trying to find the magic that he knew was there.  He could feel it, roiling and rolling within him like a dammed ocean, struggling to break free.  He knew the power was there, he could feel it.  Frustrated, Merlin shook his head and closed his hand.  The wyverns, finding no enemy, calmed slightly and curled around Merlin protectively.  He sighed and sank to his feet, deep in thought as he stared at them.  Merlin tried to put the issue of his magic aside.  The wyverns red eyes stared at him dolefully. 

“You could have left, after the fisher king died.  Why didn’t you…?”  Merlin mused as he stared at them.  The one that had rested at his feet first watched him and gently put its head on his knee.  Merlin reached out and ran his fingertips over the wyvern’s eyebrows and horns and the tail curled up and the red eyes closed happily.  A sudden realisation stopped his hands, and the wyvern pushed insistently towards him.  “You weren’t guarding _him_.”  The wyvern’s concern seemed more on Merlin continuing to pet, but the guarding wyvern raised its head and stared at him intently.  Neither creature spoke, and Merlin found himself thinking of them more like loving dogs.  One more interested in affection, and one more serious.  They were more beast than dragon, but they were still his.  They knew him.  Trusted him.  Something about him made them feel that way.  His magic?  It wasn’t the same understanding as what it was like with Kilgharrah, where they were of one soul.  But there was kinship there.  Merlin leaned back against the bench and stared at the creatures in the dark of the night.  No fires showed in the room, but the moon was still bright and lit by moon and starlight.

“What are you guarding?”  The bigger one, the guard, got to its feet and slunk past him deeper into the room.  It pawed at a rug on the floor and scratched.  The stone beneath it scratched slightly as it moved, and Merlin got down on his hands and knees and pried the flagstone up, pushing it away with the wyvern’s help.  The other wyvern, the pet, hung back and stared curiously as they dug the stone out, revealing a dark, cavernous stairwell leading straight down.  Low hisses from both the wyverns as Merlin started down had him pausing at the entranceway long enough to notice a small alcove on the left wall that held a long torch, a bottle of lamp oil and a flint and steel.  Briefly he wondered why a mage or sorcerer would need such mundane supplies, but he was thankful regardless. 

Merlin followed the winding staircase down, deeper and deeper for what seemed like hours.  As he began to worry about the oil reserves on the torch, he came to a huge door bearing iron markings of a dragon taking flight bolted across the two doors.  It looked like it barred the way, but when Merlin pushed against them, the doors separated, swinging open and ingeniously revealing the grate sliding back up into the ceiling, pulled up by a counterweight hidden somewhere behind the walls.  Two blasts of flame from above the door lit a huge fountain of oil which threw light throughout the room.  Merlin covered his eyes against the initial flare but as he opened them again, he stared in wonder.  Row upon row of dragon eggs, hundreds perhaps thousands of them stretching back into the reaches of the huge room.  The walls were lined with giant cups each holding one of the precious gems.  No window showed through, and it was as much a vault as anything he’d ever seen.  Merlin could feel the spirits of the dragons lying in wait for him as the room began to resonate with a sound he could only hear in his soul.  He put his hand to his head as the pressure built, and again he heard that girl’s voice crying out his name.  The wracking pain in her voice called to him desperately, and he dropped to his knees. 

 ** _“Merlin!  Are you alright?  What’s happening?”_** The great dragon’s voice reached his mind and Merlin clung to it in thanks.

**_“Kilgharrah!  I can’t…  I’m deep in the castle, under it.  What’s going on?”_ **

**_“Steady yourself, young warlock.  I cannot reach you there, and so you must be strong.  Are you in danger?  I can feel your pain.”_** Merlin tried to control his breathing as the panic attack began to batter at his senses.  He concentrated on his breathing, tasting the air and feeling it move over his lips.  He touched the ground and how it felt.  He imagined kind green eyes smiling at him fondly. 

 ** _“I’m alright.  I’ve found something you need to see.  Dragon eggs.  Thousands maybe.”_** The great dragon far above clawed for purchase on the ground and shook himself from his bed on the sands. 

 ** _“I… that is… You cannot know what this means to me, Merlin.  Are they safe?  Have you awakened any?”_**   Merlin shook his head as he got back to his feet. 

 ** _“No, I’ve just found them.  Something’s off about the room.  I can feel some sort of enchantment on the stones themselves.  I feel sleepy.  Slow.”_**   Kilgharrah pondered that.

 ** _“It may be that such an enchantment is meant to preserve whatever lies within the room’s walls.  It’s possible that the eggs can still be hatched.”_** Merlin pushed himself out of the room and collapsed beyond the doorway.  Slowly, the grate lowered again, and the doors closed.  His mind cleared, but he was in complete darkness.  He’d dropped the torch in the room when his panic had overwhelmed him. 

 ** _“I could feel the spirits of the dragons, Kilgharrah.  The eggs are waiting.  They’ve been here a lot longer than a thousand years, but they’re still waiting.”_**   Merlin got to his feet and began his long trek back up the stairwell.  It was slow going at first in the darkness, but the artisan who had created the stairs had done so perfectly, and soon enough his footfalls were in a steady rhythm dragging him upwards.  **_“I heard a voice, in pain so deep it might scar her forever if she’s still alive.  I heard her in my mind, like we’re talking now.  But faint, far distant.  It threw me a bit.  I don’t… my magic isn’t there.”_** Merlin could almost feel Kilgharrah’s grunt of acknowledgement. 

**_“Speaking within the spirit is as much a part of you as your legs or the colour of your hair.  It doesn’t rely on your magic.  You could still scry and commune.  Possibly even use weapons of the old religion.  But you spoke of eggs, Merlin.  I trust you will help me to restore my race, merlin.  To have the skies filled with dragons again…  Such a thing would be worth any sacrifice.”_ **

**_“Of course I will, Kilgharrah.  You know that…”_ **

**_“My thanks.”_**   Merlin could almost feel Kilgharrah’s satisfaction at that.  Something else trickled through, teasingly unrealised in his mind.  Merlin thought back.

 ** _“Any sacrifice.  What did you mean by that?”_**   Merlin came back up towards the fire lit room and noticed that the unlit torch, flint and oil reserve were back in the recessed alcove.  Magic after all, he mused.  The wyverns bowed to him gravely and he returned the formal bows.  Their task done, they moved back towards the stairwell that rose back into the cast proper, and Merlin followed wearily. He needed to sleep, but Kilgharrah’s reticence still frustrated him.   **_“Kilgharrah?”_**

**_“A momentously important symbiosis, Merlin.  In one fell swoop, you could restore both your people and mine.”_ **

**_“My people…  The druids?  Oh.  You mean Dragonlords?”_ **

**_“The dragons fell because we could not unite.  Only the will of the Dragonlords could do that.  But so too did we fall like wheat because the Dragonlords had fallen also.”_**   Merlin scratched his chin and felt the rough stubble there.  He didn’t know if there were shaving implements in the royal apartments, but he definitely wanted to find out.  He’d look ludicrous with a full beard.  He rubbed his chin again.  Perhaps not. 

**_“So if there’s more dragons in the skies…”_ **

**_“Then there will be a need for the Dragonlords once more.  The Old Religion abhors a vacuum Merlin.”_ **

**_“I’ll begin tomorrow, at dawn.  I’ll need to think of names for them all.  There’s so many.”_**   The thought didn’t displease him as he came back out into the glass room.  Night was fully descended, and far below, Kilgharrah bowed his head to Merlin as they saw one another.  

 ** _“A worthy task, Merlin.”_**   Obviously pleased, the dragon sat up straight and looked out to the moonlit waters of the sheltered bay.  A huge swell moved across the open ocean, but the waters in the bay barely pulsed.

 ** _“Why would they be here?  The eggs, I mean.”_**   Kilgharrah shrugged, salted dew sparkling on his shoulders.  Merlin turned back away as the wyverns came back, searching for him, and he followed them back to the royal chambers, climbing into bed gratefully.  The guard sat up on the windowsill and the pet laid down at the foot of the huge bed.  Merlin rubbed his rumbling stomach in consolation and resolved to catch some fish tomorrow. 

**_“Not all who are touched by the lives of dragons share your magnanimity, Merlin.  If a man could gather so many dragons, then the Dragonlords would swear fealty to ensure their safety. Harnessing dragons unborn is something a creature like Uther or Sarram would do.  I would not have thought that the Fisher King would have been of the same ilk.”_ **

**_“He seemed lost, but not evil,” agreed Merlin._ **

**_“Then why would he gather my child-kin in so great a number?”_ **

**_“Perhaps to protect them_**?” he offered uncertainly.  Kilgharrah laid back down on the sands below and curled up his body to conserve his inner warmth.  Merlin closed his eyes, struggling against the temptation to fall asleep when so much played on his mind.  

 ** _“Perhaps.”_** Merlin rubbed his burning eyes and temples, frustrated.

 ** _“I can’t get that girl’s voice out of my head.  It sounds like Morgana.”_**   Something felt terribly wrong but Merlin couldn’t narrow it down in his mind.

 ** _“She’s safe in Camelot, Merlin.  Uther won’t harm his daughter.”_**   Kilgharrah’s simple confidence irked Merlin for some reason. 

 ** _“I don’t trust who Uther will and won’t hurt.”_**   There was silent assent from the dragon before he almost felt the mental shrug.

 ** _“I’m sure she’s fine,” the dragon offered uncaringly.  “Now, if you can’t sleep, perhaps we can attend to the matter at hand, Merlin.  Now.  Aaminania was my own nestmother’s name.  It’s as good a place to start, don’t you think?”_**   Merlin scoffed.

 ** _“You’re giving me dragon names now?  I didn’t think that’s how it worked.  But sure, let’s start with double A’s.  Next we’ll have a dragon named Aardvark. Um, I can’t think and I don’t have any ink to write them down.”_**   With single minded succinctness, the dragon implacably grated two words in response.

**_“Get some.”_ **

∞₸∞

A month passed, and then another, turning the air cold.  Arthur and Elyan were due back any day, and Gwen had taken it upon herself to search for the tell-tale flashes of red or scattering birds through the forest leaves.  Whenever possible, she scoured the forest surrounds from the battlements.  Leon, having grown up with both Elyan and Gwen, and being shaken by the turn of events in the castle, had provided her with the daily schedules of the patrols and enlisted her help in “monitoring the regularity of their routes” so that she could have an excuse to watch.  The king, having virtually removed himself from the day to day operations at court and retired to his chambers, did not intercede.  The knights took up the slack, working with the council to ensure that life in Camelot continued as it always had. 

Eventually, a smaller party of red cloaked warriors made their way towards the castle, coming up from the south and slowly coming along the Camelot road.  Gwen, checking her sheet and not finding any patrols due back, raced down into the market courtyard before the patrol even made it into the city.  Arthur beamed a smile at her as he looked up and watched her race down towards him.  She was harried, careworn, tired and frazzled, and it was at that point that Arthur realised he was so deeply in love with her that he couldn’t possibly think about anyone else.  Her eyes shining as she came up to the side of horse, she accepted Arthur’s offered hand and swung up into the saddle behind him.  It was admittedly scandalous, but Arthur had missed her so much he didn’t care.  Her arms came around his waist and his chest shuddered as he breathed her in, closing his eyes for a moment as he surreptitiously leaned back into her arms.  Gwen squeezed him in her arms and leaned back, reaching for and squeezing Elyan’s hand.  Her brother smiled at her, and she noticed he needed a shave.  Gwen turned back around and put her arms around Arthur’s waist as they wound their way through the lower market areas.  Gwen breathed in deeply against the sun warmed mail that Arthur wore. 

“You probably shouldn’t do that.  I’m in dire need of a good bath.  I smell like I’m half horse.”  Gwen paused for a millisecond before blushing and clearing her throat.

“I’m not worried, Arthur.  I’ve… you’ve been missed.”  Arthur nodded to himself and reached down, putting his hand over hers about his waist.  He loved her, he knew.  It was time to do something about it.

“Gwen, we need to talk.”  She sighed against him, though not happily this time.

“I know.  And you’re not going to like it.”  That stumped him for a moment.

“Oh?”

“A lot’s happened.”

“Can’t be too much,” he joked, mock seriously.  “It’s only been what, seven, eight weeks?”

“Nine and almost ten actually, my… Lord.”  There was that pause again as she altered what she was going to say.  My Prince?  My Love?  Arthur smiled to himself, and felt the scratch of his facial hair as he did so.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.  What’s happened then?”  Gwen leaned back slightly, bracing herself.

“Too much.  Morgana’s gone from Camelot.  The King waited until you’d left and brokered a truce with Amata for peace.  The clinching bargain was Morgana as a… price for the Sarram himself.”  Arthur jerked around in his saddle and stared at her incredulously.

“He… what?”  Gwen nodded, and glanced at Elyan, who was staring at her in shock.

“I had to make her a dress like I was gift wrapping my friend for…  oh Arthur.”  She brought her hand up to cover her tears, but she didn’t know if they were for Arthur’s loss, Morgana’s pain or simply being overwhelmed.

“I don’t understand…?”  Arthur’s lost tone made Gwen’s hands twitch as the need to comfort him almost overwhelmed her for a second.  But she composed herself. 

“Your father’s become a recluse, Arthur.  Which is better than what WAS happening.  He’s losing his grip.  From Morgana’s attempt on the throne to the Glass Knight and then feeling like everyone’s betrayed him.  He’s spiralled down.  Leon and the Knights have tried to keep it a secret from the people, but the king isn’t well.”  Arthur controlled his face, albeit with some effort.  His eyes told his pain though, and she couldn’t stop herself this time as she laid her hands on his shoulders and willed strength into him.  She tried to keep her reserve, but Arthur discarded the impropriety with a scowl.  He twisted awkwardly in his saddle and kissed her cheek softly.  Gwen opened her mouth and breathed in, but the kiss was incredibly intimate, letting her know better than any words he could have used that Arthur was done hiding his feelings from her and anyone else.  She couldn’t help the sudden warmth and smile towards him at the brazen act. 

“Thank you for telling me, Gwen.  Let’s see what we can do about all this, hmm?”  She nodded and he looked back to Elyan, who smiled at him wanly.  “I’ll need to see Gaius, and Leon.  Have them meet me in Gaius’s chambers.”  Elyan nodded and urged the horse forward at a quicker pace to summon the others.  Arthur looked very seriously at Gwen, and she could feel blooms of heat spreading across her face under his regard.  Boldly, she met his eyes, and saw in there the flicker of lust as she let him see she returned his feelings.  Then it was gone and he was all business.  “Who leads the council in my father’s convalescence?”

“Lord Agravaine.”

∞₸∞

Merlin awoke with a scream of encroached fear and panic.  The Fisher King’s bed was drenched in sweat and he was tangled in the sheets.  Outside, the storm raged across the ocean, driving schools of fish into the sheltered bay that the castle overlooked.  Merlin got out of the bed as anger and frustration almost immediately overtook his fear.  Another nightmare.  It had been a month or more since he’d stopped trying to use magic.  His Dragonlord powers had grown, but they meant only little to the mage.  He was his father’s legacy, and a powerful one at that, but his magic was as much a part of him as his eyes or heart or soul.  Lightning lit the room and far below, Kilgharrah laughed as he swooped down into the waters and came up with a wagon’s load of fish in his mouth.  Lightning lit the sky again as thunder rolled across the rocks and against the castle like an invisible wave.  Merlin ran his hands down his arms and legs and flicked the sweat off out the window in disgust.  When his heart slowed down, he dried his hands on the clothing pile that was getting large and beginning to smell at the foot of the bed.  He’d need to wash it soon.  Merlin scowled and snarled wordlessly in sudden frustration.  The wyverns had slunk out of the shadows of the room once he’d calmed down backed away again, and Merlin tried to get a hold of his temper.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the single candle that had burned out and then too at the book beside it, ancient symbols carved into the leather with delicate artistry. It was yet another tome from the enchanting room far below. 

He turned his back on the table and closed the cover.  The Fisher King had been one of the greatest enchanters in the history of the Old Religion.  Warlocks and Sorcerers had come across oceans and kingdoms for his enchantments.  It was part of what had given the King his vast wealth.  His enchantments ranged from practical to outlandish and from beautiful to cruel.  But he had lived a long life and perfected them.  Merlin felt overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the Old Religion knowledge that he had at his fingertips.  His eyes flickered to the windowsill and the small stones that sat there.  He’d brought them up with the latest tome, and had searched through until he was almost certain he’d found them catalogued in the back of the book.  The stones were placed in the mouth and generated a small pocket of air that encased the head.  They were used for divers who searched the depths of the bay for shellfish and shells, pearls and the purest of sands.  They gave the diver a day’s worth of air before they ran out, and Merlin had thought such a practical use of enchanting to be such a wondrous thin.  He picked up the stones that he’d been practicing with and turned the smooth pebbles in his hand. The enchantment was simple enough, but again, he tried and again, he failed.

The words were clear in his mind, and the magic still didn’t answer. He could feel it in him, burning and roiling like the white tipped ocean below him.  It was different, stronger, and wilder than it had been before.  This wasn’t the power that he’d connected to all his life.  This was something far more powerful.  Raw and angry.  It scared him, and every night, he woke screaming and sweating, the fear and pain still clinging to him.  It was a trapped feeling, like he couldn’t get out.  He didn’t know if it was because his magic was broken, or scars of his mind left over from his imprisonment within the glass armour.  He could still feel the chains about his wrists sometimes, and so he truly wasn’t certain.  He sighed and went to the washbasin sitting in front of the mirror and cleaned his face off.  He looked up, but it wasn’t his reflection in the glass. 

Morgana sat, cradled against stone walls and tears streaming endlessly down her face.  Thick chains about her wrists and ankles were looped around her neck, and as Merlin watched in horror, she pulled the chains down through the hook above her head, slowly strangling herself in abject despondency.

Screaming, Merlin lurched forwards towards the mirror and the basin tumbled down off the bench by his action.  The water scattered across the floor and as Merlin desperately banged on the mirror as Morgana’s face turned grey.  He heard his name being soundlessly called and felt a pressure deep in the base of his mind, calling his attention down.  Like Morgana’s reflection in the mirror, Freya’s face was slightly distorted as she mouthed his name silently.  Merlin let go of the mirror and dropped to the floor, putting both of his hands and his knees in the thin puddle.  Freya smile and nodded, and around him, the world turned a deep, cold blue. 

Kilgharrah, preparing himself for another dive below, suddenly sensed the absence of Merlin’s presence, and his eyes narrowed.  He roared for the wyverns, but they weren’t leaving the bedroom, where Kilgharrah couldn’t get in.  He flew up to the side of the tower and clawed his way up to peer in the window.  The wyvern’s mewled in fear and he took in the water and smashed basin with a glance and roared again. 

“No, witch!  Not yet!”

∞₸∞

The room was a simple blackness, though he could see her clearly enough.  It wasn’t like the oppressive darkness of the Glass Knight’s imprisonment, but was instead simply the absence of light.  It could have been a grassy grove, or a cave or a clootie well.  It didn’t matter.  Freya stood diffidently, her hands moving uncertainly in front of her as she looked at Merlin in apprehension.  She was clean and wore a simple light blue dress, no shoes and with her hair loose about her, tumbling down her shoulders in slight curls that somehow brought a sense of simplistic peace.  Her eyes were the same, though, as she stared at him in wonder and with a slight sense of uncertainty.  Merlin grinned and threw his arms around her, and Freya laughed softly as she returned the embrace for a moment.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d see me.  Or even hear me.”  Her smile faded somewhat.  “You’re burnt out,” she scolded.  Merlin’s smile stayed in place, but he nodded solemnly.

“I-I’ve… missed you.”  He looked down, his smile finally fading.  “Not as much as I should have, I know.”  Freya smiled knowingly at him.

“She’s a beautiful woman, Merlin.  And she loves you.”  He looked up, stunned.  “Oh, I envy her,” she assured him.  “But you moved on; it’s what the living do.  As long as you’re alive, someone to share your burden and make you happy is a gift I won’t hate you for.  We’re connected, Merlin.  You and I have much to do in the centuries ahead.  Morgana and I… are of the Old Religion.  That connection means more than I can tell you.  But we don’t have much time.”  He thought of the reflection above. 

“Morgana…  I saw her in the mirror.”

“Yes.  She’s been assaulted beyond belief by fate itself, Merlin.  She’s held captive by her own vows.  She swore a blood oath to Uther that she wouldn’t betray his reign, and so this treaty with Amata means that she cannot raise her hand against them by magic either.  The Old Religion takes those vows very seriously.  But Uther has broken his own vow to keep her safe from harm.  Morgana doesn’t know that but it’s keeping her complicit in this madness for fear of losing all that she is.  It’s her pain and her fear and her confinement you’re connecting to.  In the palace of the Sarram of Amata.  He’s got a mad druid by his side, named Yjiss.  She’s… got terrible powers, Merlin.  Her son was the one that attacked me.”  He narrowed his eyes. 

“Then she’s the one who cursed you?”

“Yes.  She’s not to be underestimated, Merlin.  She’s completely devoted to Sarram, insane and broken by him.  If Morgana isn’t rescued… she could be the same.”  Merlin shook his head emphatically.

“Never.  Not Morgana.  She’s too strong.”  Freya pursed her lips and looked away.

“Strength can be turned against you.  Yjiss was beautiful before the Sarram twisted her with his tortures and sweets.”  She looked off into the darkness for some time, and Merlin was struck by how different and beautiful she was.  Still beautiful, as she always was, but there was a strength and a presence to her now that the vulnerable, tortured girl that he’d fallen for hadn’t had.  “And now she’s his.  Body and soul.”  Merlin couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, Freya.  I’m sorry I failed you.” 

“You truly think you did?” she asked, curiously.  She gave him a softly luminescent smile.  “No tears for me, Merlin.  I’ve transcended, like I was always meant to.  Sharing my essences with the waters of Avalon and Albion itself has changed me.” 

“You’re still beautiful.”  She suddenly smiled girlishly at him.  

“You’re not supposed to remember that, Merlin.”  He shrugged.    

“I’m sure Morgana would agree.”  His statement was simple, and he could tell that she was truly pleased.    

“We don’t have much time here, merlin.  Your magic, Merlin.”

“It’s gone, isn’t it?”  Sombrely, he waited for her to agree with him.

“Your old magic, yes.  It’s limits and foibles are gone.  Now you have to reconnect to that distant part of you that isn’t control and fear.  The Glass Knight…  why are you smiling, Merlin?”

“Foibles?”  His lightly teasing tone didn’t bring a smile to her face, though he could clearly see the amusement in her eyes.

“Yes, Merlin.  Foibles”  They shared a smile before she turned to the side and began to pace.  “Listen to me carefully.  The Glass Knight took your magic, again and again. And each time, like a dug pit, it scraped open more and more.  Like a pond reservoir, it kept emptying, and each time it refilled, your magic itself grew.”  He considered that, and nodded.   

“I felt that.  I could feel it coming back quicker and stronger each time.  But it did that for months.”  She stared at him, looking into him and seeing what he never could.

“Yes.  You’re…  terrifying.”  She didn’t smile this time, and Merlin felt a slight unease at the way she said it.  “There are three stages of magical power, Merlin.  Thought without Word, Word without Thought, and High Magic.  As one gets more powerful, what you can accomplish in those stages grows.”  Again he considered that, before nodding.    

“Gaius calls it Instinctual Magic, Raw Magic and Royal Magic.”  She shrugged girlishly.  

“It’s much the same.  You will need to be careful.  Your rage can change the face of the world, now.”  Merlin shook his head sadly.  

“But I can’t do spells, I’ve tried.”  She drew a hand through the air, and a triskelion appeared, swirling around and seemingly drawing light into it until it glowed, pulsing in time to his heartbeat.  Though it should have been disconcerting, Merlin found it calming instead.   

“You needed time to heal.  You’d burnt out your connection to the land.  That’s why you couldn’t do anything physically.  Your powers protected you from burning yourself alive with the sheer volume of magic you could channel.  You needed time.”     

“And now I’m ready?”  Freya shook her head and he couldn’t help the sudden bitter taste of disappointment filling his mouth.  

“Now we’re out of time.”  She cupped her hands and the triskelion slowly disintegrated into her hands as it rotated, as though it were pouring a small amount in each time of itself.  The water welled up in her hands, not seeping through at all.  When the last of the water dripped into her palms, she lifted them to his lips.  “Drink, Merlin.  Avalon’s healing waters will reconnect you to the land and heal that which is broken.  The magic will reunite you.”  He leaned down and looked up at her as he put his hands on hers.  They were cold, but warmed at his touch and Freya blushed. 

“Is there a spell?”  She minutely shook her head.

“Not as such.  You have to remember who you are, Merlin.  That’s always had a kind of magic of its own.  You’re not your power.  You are its conduit.  You are the vessel for the hopes and dreams of Albion itself. It’s at once the hardest thing in the world and yet the easiest.  Just be yourself.  You’re worthy.  You’re completely up to the task of being YOU, Merlin.  And that’s all you’ll ever need to be.”  The corner of his mouth quirked as he took that in.    

“Wise words from someone who says “Foibles.””  He drank from her palms before she could scold him, but she smiled instead.  The black haze about them lightened to a deep blue, and Merlin felt himself refreshed and healed for the first time in months.  He looked up and grinned, but the grin fell when he realised that Freya was beginning to fade.  She ruefully smiled before reaching up and kissing him gently on the lips.

“We never had a chance, Merlin.  But I’m proud of the man you’ve become.  And I’m glad of the part I played in it.”  He closed his eyes and smiled. 

“You were my first real love.  You’ll always be special to me.”  There was a sound like water running over stones and then there was nothing left but her voice.  Merlin felt the water surround him and push him up like a single wave of surf, and looked up to the lightening above him.   

“Save her, Merlin.  And remember.  Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

∞₸∞

The cold press of the wet stones under his cheek was accompanied by the sudden realisation of the presence of the wyverns and someone else in the small bedroom.  Merlin rolled to his feet and crouched in readiness, but the figure didn’t move.  An old man in peasant’s cottons stared at him from the windowsill with one leg propped under his chin and the other dangling childishly from the ledge.  Merlin met Kilgharrah's dragon eyes in the old man’s face.

“You disappeared, Merlin,” mused the dragon wearing the old man’s body.  “And now I sense your power is…  I would like to know what happened.”  Merlin stood up and shook his head urgently.

“No, I don’t have time right now.  I’ve got to get back to Camelot.”  He darted back out of the room and raced down to the enchanting room.  The wyverns darted in a hairsbreadth before the old man, who slunk in walking as though he were still a dragon. 

“Merlin, what are you talking about?  Your place is here!”  Merlin pulled a bag down and began to stuff items into it haphazardly. 

“Morgana needs my help.”  Kilgharrah scoffed.   

“As do I.  And the life of the witch was changed long ago.”  Merlin moved to get passed him and Kilgharrah grabbed him, staring into his eyes.  “She’s fine, Merlin.  There’s no need for this.”  Merlin threw the bag down and glared at the old figure, fixing him with burning eyes that held all his rage and power.  When he spoke, his voice was deathly quiet. 

“And why would you lie to me?” he asked in quiet disgust.  “ Yet why wouldn’t you?  You’ve always done it.  And I’ve been stupid enough to believe you, over and over again.  You’re taken this friendship and now you’re using me.”  The old man’s eyes narrowed speculatively, and then he raised his chin into Merlin’s scowl. 

“Merlin, I am my own creature, as you are, and everyone else whose hearts beat and minds swirl.  I am also the last Great Dragon, possibly the last of my kin who will ever be.  Tantalisingly, fate has gifted me not only with a Dragonlord, but also with thousands upon thousands of dragon’s eggs, a possibly future and resurrection of my entire species.  And that cannot happen without you.  You are the most precious of anything in my life, and I will protect you.  Even from yourself.”

“You ARE your own creature though, aren’t you?  Kilgharrah.  You don’t hold the weight of your own destiny very well.  We are bound, you and I.  You think I exist to help you fulfil your destiny.  What about me?  What about what I think I exist for?”  Kilgharrah opened his mouth for a moment and then closed it.

“I cannot answer that, Merlin.”  Merlin took a sudden breath. 

“Help me.”  The simple appeal dropped the old figure’s head in regret.

“I will not.  I will not help you endanger yourself.”  The young warlock’s chin rose in defiance and he held the dragon with his eyes.

“I can make you.”

“Yes, you can.” Kilgharrah admitted simply.  They stared at one another, but Merlin looked away first.  He would not compel the dragon to help.  He had done that as the Glass Knight, and would never do it again. 

“Help me, then.  Please.”  Kilgharrah’s tone turned conciliatory, and his frail seeming hands reached up to hold Merlin’s shoulders.

“I will not assist you in an endeavour so likely to end up with your destruction.  I have warned you before…”

“You don’t know everything, though,” Merlin cut him off.  He wasn’t harsh or accusatory, simply entreating.  Kilgharrah’s head moved slowly to the side, considering.  “If I had of helped Morgana instead of thinking you were omniscient, then what?”  Kilgharrah shrugged. 

“Destiny is as clear to me as the words on a page are to you, young warlock.”  Merlin turned away in frustration and walked back to the enchanting table.  He leafed through the book he’d studied the week before, searching for a drawing he’d seen.  He found it after a moment’s furious page swiping, and looked up, searching for the armour depicted in the ledger.  Behind a huge water board and sail, he found it, standing tall on a wooden display mannequin. 

“So now what?” he cast over his shoulder to the dragon.  There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence, and then the dragon sighed. 

“Now… you have broken destiny itself.  I am cast adrift.  I feel…”  He groped for the word.

“Human?” offered Merlin with some amusement. 

“I am NOT human.”  Merlin smirked.  

“So feeling like one should throw you for a loop.”  Merlin stared at the armour on the mannequin.  Old roman style arm and shoulder guard stretched across one side of the chest, and then a wrist cuff on the opposite shoulder.  Right handed, like Merlin was himself.  A leather mask with a trident symbol on it sat atop the post loosely.  Leather leggings with sparse metal plating gave free movement.  The enchantments on it were simple, according to the book.  Softened blows, reduced temperature variations to ward off extreme heat or cold.  Magic shields on the metal plates on the leggings and in the centre of the chest piece.  Healing spells seeped into the leather.  This was a mage’s war-wear.  No robes to entangle, but a true warrior wizard’s attire.  For a fighter, not just a magic user.  Merlin put a hand on the chest of the armour and felt the metal plate hum under his skin.

“All my life, I’ve done things for other people.  I put aside what I wanted to do because I had to believe in Arthur.”  Kilgharrah eyed him narrowly.

“You and Arthur…”  Merlin whirled around as soon as the dragon’s pompous repetition began.

“Oh, shove it, I don’t want to hear about destiny or the once and future king or witches and warlocks.”  His outburst stunned the dragon into a startled silence.    

“I’ve lost so many nights thinking about how I could change things,” Merlin explained pensively.  “Get Arthur to meet the druids.  Killing Uther, or letting him die. So many different choices I’d make again.”  His head fell to his chest and Merlin collapsed to his knees hopelessly as the thought of his meaningless life crushed him.  Kilgharrah moved to him and put a hand on his shoulder in reassurance.  Merlin looked up and his chin firmed.  His eyes were clear and bright and wild. 

“Screw this.  I’m going to get her, Kilgharrah.”  He got up and shrugged the dragon back.  Energy raced along his body as he began to pull the leather armour over his body.  The straps caught up but it only took him a moment to untangle them as he stripped off his clothes and armoured himself.  “I’m not going to leave Morgana alone in that hellhole.”  Kilgharrah shook his head disdainfully, looking at Merlin as though he were crazy. 

“You aren’t a warrior, Merlin. You can’t…”  Merlin pulled a wooden shaft from beside the armour, and atop it, a crystal began to glow a deep blue , nestled in the three prongs of a trident.

“I never have been.  That’s what Arthur is for.”

∞₸∞

“Father, speak to me… please.”  Arthur knelt in the great hall in front of his father’s slumped form.  Uther’s vacant face didn’t raise to his son’s plea, but instead continued to stare off into the distance.  Around them, the council members, many of whom had known Arthur since birth, felt the Prince’s pain keenly.  Arthur refused the tears that threatened to fall and stood up, staring at the members of the council who looked away guiltily.  Only Agravaine met his eyes dispassionately. 

“It’s for the best, Arthur,” his uncle assured him .  Arthur controlled his temper with some difficulty and turned back to his father.

“No, it’s not, Uncle.  What happened to you, Father?  When did you let yourself become… this?” Arthur’s disappointment was clear as Agravaine watched smugly.  The Prince turned around and looked at the council.  “I need to know everything was arranged with the Amatean Ambassador, and I need him here.  Now!”  The last was snarled as one of the council members dithered, looking to Agravaine.  He had already taken three steps at Arthur’s snarl when there was a sudden commotion at the great hall doors and a guard slipped inside, bracing himself against the door. 

“I gave orders that we were not to be disturbed!” growled Agravaine as Arthur took in the fearful guard’s visage and drew his sword.  The great wooden doors cracked open and a man strode in, leaving a dozen guardsmen and several knights fallen behind him.  He was lithely thin and muscled, but wearing strange leather armour.  He carried a trident with him, much like the one that Arthur had taken from the Fisher King’s palace but stouter and more of a weapon than a ceremonial ornament.  The guards lining the walls went for him as Arthur moved in front of his father, but their swords just bounced off either the armour of the man’s skin.  He pushed them back with a whirl of the staff, shoving them away with forceful magic.  The eyes of his helm glowed blue white as he surveyed the council members.  Uther gibbered in fear behind Arthur, and the young Prince loosened his sword hand with a few swings and settled into ready stance.  Agravaine, however, stared in abject hatred at the man in the leather armour, who stared back at him with clear interest.  Two of the guards got to their feet quietly and crept up behind the leather clad mage, seeing his attention on Agravaine.  The mage turned his head to the side and shook it once, and the guards looked to Arthur, who straitened and put his sword down.  Agravaine drew his and started forwards.

“You’re interfering for the last time, Emerys.” He spat the name with cold hatred and lifted his free hand.  The mage lifted his forearm up and blocked the magic, washing it over and away from him as Agravaine struggled to keep to his feet.  The mage advanced and Arthur shook off his stunned surprise as seeing Agravaine use magic.

“I know you, Shade.”  Agravaine grunted and struggled in the mage’s grip as the leather clad warrior advanced, pointing his staff towards Arthur’s uncle.  He continued to struggle, trying to break free, but the mage’s grip was too strong. 

“Let him go, that’s enough,” warned Arthur, but Agravaine quivered and let out a woman’s scream in a torn voice.  Agravaine looked back at the council in desperation, but the mage shook his head. 

“You’re done here.  You’re dead.  You need to rest.”  Agravaine shook his head and the mage sighed.  Something incredibly familiar about the mage’s build and voice tugged at Arthur’s consciousness, but he couldn’t conceive the truth in that moment.

“I… will… not…”  Held fast by his will, Agravaine screamed in that woman’s voice again, and snarled at the mage.  Arthur moved up to his uncle’s side, his sword drawn.

“What’s the meaning of this?”  The mage turned the leather mask towards the Prince and the glowing eyes caught his attention. 

“Arthur.  You know Morgause.”  He moved the staff up and touched it gently to the ground before gripping something in the air and moving upwards, drawing a white mist up and out of Agravaine’s mouth.  The mist coalesced in front of the stunned council into the form of the beautiful blue robed blonde priestess.  She was drawn and gaunt, and a hazy shade of herself, but it was undeniably Morgana’s sister.  Morgause shook her hair, which floated about her as if she were suspended in water.

“Release me, Emerys,” she hissed in frustration.  The mage shook his head.  “I am owed my vengeance!”

“You are nothing more than embittered remembrances  Morgause,” he corrected sadly.  “Sleep,” he conceded.  “You are owed that.”

“No,” the shade denied angrily.  “I shall not!”  Agravaine shook like an addict as she dispersed and tried to sink back into him.  The mage clenched his hands together into bony fists and power cracked through the room.  Morgause appeared to struggled against an unfelt and unseen wind which didn’t touch any of the living.  Desperately, Morgause tried to cling, and to her ghostly hand gripped Agravaine’s spirit as she drew him out.  Like a child to its mother he clung to her, until she pulled him out of his body, and both of them were torn away by the whirling air.

His body slumped down, all signs of life gone from it, and Arthur looked up.  Uther stared at the figure with something resembling his old spirit, but he still stayed silent.  Arthur made a show of casually sheathing his sword in front of the mage, who dipped his head in thanks.  Arthur grew more and more certain as the mage came closer to him.

“The last time a man came into this room with magic, he proved himself to be a friend to me.  What will you prove?”  The figure laughed behind the mask at the invitation, and Arthur smiled as he reached up to pull of his mask.

“The same,” vowed Merlin, grinning at his friend as he removed the leather mask.  Arthur stared at him wordlessly and Merlin’s smile faded.

“It WAS you.  The armour was just…”  Merlin shook his head at Arthur’s cryptic words.  The Prince straightened.  “What do you want, Merlin?”  His stance was calm and didn’t betray what he was feeling.  Merlin nodded, conceding that there was a lot that needed to be spoken of between them. 

“I’m here for Morgana.”  Uther stood up from the throne and Merlin looked at him with interest.  When it became clear that the King had nothing to say, he looked back to Arthur.

“She’s moved on, Merlin.  She’s… probably married by now.  She’s become Princess Consort to the Sarram of Amata.”  Merlin’s stony visage faced off against Arthur, knowing he was only repeating the official story, and nothing more.

“I know.  He’s hurting her,” Merlin grated from clenched teeth.

“How in the devil…?  He wouldn’t dare, Merlin.  The treaty stands now.”  Clearly, Arthur was showing his loyalty to his King and nothing more.  He had no idea.  Merlin rolled his neck, feeling the vertebrae pop and release the pressure that his tense shoulders inflicted.  He could see it in Arthur’s eyes.  He disagreed.  “Morgana… went willingly.”

“Morgana has been cast aside.  He’s imprisoned her, Arthur.  He’s HURTING… her.”  He emphasized the words to stop the protective snarl that came to his lips.  Arthur stubbornly shook his head.

“I said he wouldn’t dare, Merlin.”  The warlock ground his teeth together and reached back behind him.  The trident staff moved across to his grip and the council stirred uneasily.  A single look from Arthur silenced them.

“I’m going to get her, and bring her back, Arthur.  I’m not leaving her alone again.”  His challenging tone as he slipped the mask over a hook on his belt showed Arthur that this was a very different Merlin.  A Merlin that he strangely found he liked more for his assertiveness.  But it brought about a different set of problems.  Clenching his fists in anger, Arthur shook his head.

“I won’t let you do that, Merlin.  We have a treaty with Amata now, bound by marriage.  It we go after her, then we’re ensuring war with Sarram when we’ve just brokered peace.”  Merlin’s eyes were cold blue as he shook his head slowly, his eyes not leaving Arthur’s.  The power in his presence was more than a little unnerving, and Arthur wasn’t sure he knew this Merlin at all in that moment.

“I couldn’t give a rat’s arse, Arthur.  I’m not saying it again.  He’s hurting her.”  Arthur slowly drew his sword, almost reluctantly, as Merlin gripped the trident tightly. 

“Stand down, Merlin,” Arthur advised quietly.  “You have bigger worries than the Sarram right now.  You could start by explaining yourself.”  He kept his tone grave, but Merlin looked about and shrugged, unconcerned.   

“I’m going to save a Princess, Arthur.  I thought it was something that would be right up your alley.”  Arthur shook his  head at the flippancy.

“You… have… the laws of Camelot… Merlin.  You’re practicing magic.”  Arthur looked behind him helplessly at Uther, who was staring at Merlin with growing anger.  His mouth worked slowly.

“Guards,” he groaned with a voice made rusty by long disuse.   Merlin looked about him, but the guards held their distance, waiting for their cue from Arthur.  Merlin tapped a thumb on the shaft of the trident speculatively.  He decided against flowery speech and instead went with honesty.

“No, Arthur.  I AM magic.  And what’s more, I don’t have to be afraid of you here, in the seat of your power.  Because I’m taking a leaf from Morgana’s book.  I’m not hiding it anymore.  I have magic, Arthur.  And every day, I’ve drawn breath and held power within me, used it only to help you, save you.  Because I believe in you.  Now.  You say I’m betraying everything for hiding my magic.  What are you betraying, by leaving Morgana to rot in the Sarram’s cell?”  The Prince hesitated, and Merlin knew with absolute certainty that in that instant, he was a breath away from leaping on a horse and charging off to rescue her.  Then the King’s son took a breath filled with regret.

“It’s not that simple Merlin.  We’ve got trouble to the south, we’re spread thin, and what you’re suggesting would take an army.  It’s just not…”

“Yes, Arthur, it is,” Merlin cut him off simply.  “I told you.  Be a good man.  Everything else will follow.”  Conflicted, Arthur looked back at the council and shook his head.

“We can’t move against Amata.  Even if I wanted to, there’s too much standing in the way, and too much risk for Morgana.”  Merlin let go of the trident and it stayed upright again.  He crossed his arms and smiled disarmingly at the Prince. 

“I didn’t ask if you were afraid of the odds, Arthur.  I’m going to go and rescue Morgana regardless.  I’m asking if you’re coming along?”  Arthur stood there, shaking his head.  Merlin, frustrated, scoffed and whirled around, grabbing the trident and taking several long strides towards the doors.  There was a muttered oath which was more like Gwaine’s language than Merlin’s, and he pivoted on his boot heel with a snap of attention.

“  I don’t know if I can do this without you, Arthur.  But I know… I KNOW… that I can do this with you.  Please!”  Merlin reached out to him with his hand, offering it like a lifeline.  Arthur went to deny him, but stopped, his mouth working soundlessly.  It went against everything in him to leave Morgana there, in pain.  He stared up at the ceiling and then at Uther, who met his eyes and after several long moments, looked away and nodded, just once.    Arthur turned back to Merlin, who was staring at him, still reaching out to him with his hand and pleading wordlessly.  Arthur shook his head once more, but his lip moved in a smile. 

“We don’t have any men.”  It wasn’t a "no", and Merlin shook his hand again.

“Works in our favour.  They’d just get in our way.”  Arthur stepped forwards and slid his sword into its sheath beside him. 

“We have no plan.”  Hope lit Merlin’s eyes as Arthur took another step and he almost laughed.

“Never stopped us before, Arthur.”  The prince shook his head ruefully and clasped Merlin’s hand in agreement.  They clasped wrists and Merlin nodded, a wild light in his eyes as Arthur looked back at his father.  Uther was clearly torn; unhappy with Merlin and the circumstances, but perhaps realizing that it was Morgana’s last hope.  Arthur turned back to Merlin after bowing to his father.

“It’s going to take months on horseback to even get within sight of Amata.”  Merlin laughed and shook his head.

“Sorcerer, remember?  Who said anything about horses?”  In one of those perfectly fated moments, a shadow flew across  the huge windows, and then another.  Wyvern calls sounded alarms in the courtyard as they began to circle far above, and the citizens  craned their necks to watch them warily. 

Arthur and Merlin strode purposefully to the courtyard as Merlin searched for the wyverns, and called to them.  There was a sudden huge roar from the south and the wyvern’s scattered as the Great Dragon cast his shadow over Camelot once again.  Kilgharrah’s wings swept downwards and he lowered himself into the courtyard, eyeing the guardsmen that scrambled about him with more than casual amusement.  When Merlin and Arthur moved around into his view, the Great Dragon bowed low to Merlin.  Arthur roared at the guards to stand down and back away as Kilgharrah bowed to him, and gravely returned it.

“I thought you didn’t want to help.”  Kilgharrah bowed his head again.

“When your eyes are fixed upon the sun and moon and their dance across the skies, you miss the beauty of the flowers upon which you tread.  I’ve been so concerned with your destiny that I forgot the smaller, yet no less important fact of life, Merlin.”  The warlock strode up to him and put a hand on the scaled shoulder in thanks. 

“And what’s that?”  Kilgharrah stared at the hand and then lowered his head close to Merlin’s. 

“That while our destinies are just as entwined as those of yours and the Once and Future King, Merlin Dragonlord, Son of Balinor… that is of the sky.  The truth is you are my one and only friend.  And what friend would I be, to let you go off and battle the armies of Amata alone?”  Merlin put his forehead against the dragon, and Kilgharrah hesitated for a moment before he moved his other leg around, holding Merlin to him for just a heartbeat.  They parted, and Merlin leapt up onto Kilgharrah’s back and looked back to Arthur, who was staring in bewilderment at the two.  Merlin held out his hand again, and helped him up.  Arthur settled in behind Merlin and looked uncomfortable as he put his hands on the ridges running under him and held on.

“Are you ready to go to war, Merlin?”  The warlock leaned forwards and Kilgharrah nodded to him and began to beat his wings steadily.  In the tight confines of the castle walls, it took several wing beats to steady them.  Merlin thought of Freya, and then of Morgana, down in the hole alone and abandoned.  Anger flamed his thoughts, and he could feel the rage roiling in his chest.

Arthur looked up and saw his father staring down at him from the window of the great hall.  Arthur saluted him from his perch behind the sorcerer atop the dragon, banging his fist over his heart.  Uther nodded, again just once.  Arthur smiled and looked away, finding Gwen in the growing crowd at the gate that the guardsmen had shut.  Merlin turned back to him, and Arthur flinched at the gold light in his eyes. 

“I won’t let her down again, Arthur.  I’m… I love her.”  Arthur looked back to Gwen and caught her proud, happy face.  She nodded, telling him she was with him, and mouthed “Go get her.”  Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder as they rose above Camelot and whirled, heading for Amata on the back of the Great Dragon, with two wyverns as draconic escorts.

“Then God help them all.”

 

To Be Concluded.


	5. Trium Vitae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur go after Morgana, and face off against the Sarram.   
> LOTS of Mergana fluff. Like LOTS... TONNES. Just warning you all.

**Trium Vitae**

* * *

 

Merlin could not help but breathe shallowly at such heights as Kilgharrah soared through the tips of the clouds.  The temperature was icy, even with the wards on his armour, but the sun shone brightly and kept them from freezing.  They were flying so fast that it was hard to breathe, and Merlin dug into a small leather pouch on the belt and pulled out two of the fishing stones from the Fisher King’s enchantments room.  He handed one to Arthur and popped the other one in his mouth. 

“Don’t swallow!” he warned over the rush of wind.  Arthur’s cheek moved for a moment as he tucked the stone into the side of his mouth and shrugged in confusion before he breathed in and nodded in thanks.  His cheeks were red from the wind, but the paleness of his skin around the red blushes flushed slightly to a slightly normal pink as he breathed in normally.  Breathing warm air helped them both and Arthur’s head moved to the sides, cracking the pressure out.  To either side of them, the wyverns darted around in a draconic honour guard.  They’d been flying for twenty minutes at best, and Kilgharrah was starting to stretch his wings out.  The two of them stopped talking and held on as the clouds billowed away from the huge wing strokes and Kilgharrah began to accelerate, racing across the clouds as though a kingfisher darting over the water.

They chased the sunlight across the sky until it disappeared beneath the clouds and Kilgharrah began to slow.  There was only the bright moon to light the way, and the white clouds about them also glowed, though just brightly enough to mask any signs of torchlight far below.   Soon enough, however, the great dragon craned his neck back towards Merlin, still going through the air, but slowly. 

“The Citadel of Amata lies beneath us.”  Merlin nodded and pulled the staff from his back, bracing himself up on the dragon’s shoulder blades in front of Arthur, who edged back, making room for him. 

“I’ll distract the guards at the front; you go with Kilgharrah and the wyverns and get Morgana.  Trust Kilgharrah, he’s got better eyes than we do. When the guards peel off to come and deal with me, you get her out.  We’re going to need her.  And don’t forget to explain about Amata.  Morgana needs to know.” Arthur drew his sword uncertainly, looking at the clouds below them. 

“Alright, Merlin, we’ve been over this.  I still don’t understand how you’re going to be a distraction big enough to get the whole city’s attention.”  Merlin stood up precariously on the dragon’s scales and pulled his mask off his belt.  He went to put it on before deciding against it.  He wanted Morgana to see it was him when he could finally see her.  He hooked it back onto his belt and took a deep breath to calm himself.  His eyes flashed gold and Arthur flinched at the sudden cold tone as Merlin’s anger started to get the better of him. 

“I’m going to knock loudly.  But you have more important things to worry about, Arthur.  **_Amundian Rex!_** ”  Arthur flinched and his eyes bulged as the magic rushed over him, and Merlin stepped off the dragon’s shoulder and fell through the clouds. 

The fishing stone provided him with a pocket of warm air over his face as he fell through the cold air, and gave him clear vision as he burst through the white clouds into the sky below.  The ground rushed up to meet him, and he took in at a glance the dark city with sputtering, oily torchlight and the huge wooden gates that had protected the main entrance since antiquity.  Amata’s seat of royalty had been the base for his twisted hate for decades, and Merlin gripped his staff grimly as he thrust it forwards. 

“ ** _Dómfæstenes oferýþ, ábéodan mín bócriht!_** ”  Water exploded out of the tip of the spear and rushed like a charge of furious waves towards the gate, carrying Merlin along with it, buffeting him within the water.  Drawn downwards by Merlin’s magic and also the pull of the earth itself, the water hit the gate with a force so resounding that it broke the gates from the very stone surrounds themselves, shattering the ancient stone walls and gates of Amata open like a hammered barrel.  The waves dispersed into the city, smashing and unsettling shocked guardsmen and civilians from their feet.  Merlin let the water dissipate throughout the courtyard even as the guards gathered themselves and formed up in front of him and loosely charged.  The water was still three inches deep as they splashed through it and he shook his head in disgust.  Arthur would never have allowed such foolishly rash attacks.  There was no footing in running water.  Merlin’s eyes narrowed. 

“ ** _Fréosan!_** ” He punctuated his sharp snarl with a stab of his staff.  Ice exploded out from the tip and flowed out towards the charging men, engulfing the water and freezing their charge in solid ice.  As they struggled to get free, an officer charged from the side and threw a short javelin which Merlin contemptuously knocked from the air with his staff.  Other guards came forwards and Merlin looked back at the officer, who drew his sword grimly.  His eyes flashed gold as he stared at the man, who flinched.

“You’re going to need more men,” he whispered in quiet, deadly rage.  Merlin raised his staff again.

∞₸∞

Morgana felt the blackness recede as the world shook around her like a massive earthquake.  Hazily, she could feel the heavy chains about her neck fall back down onto her with bruising force.  It was no good.  She’d tried too many times now.  She couldn’t end herself. She just blacked out.  The Sarram’s cruel bracelet, thick and ugly on her wrist with its burning symbols and Yjiss’s seething malice writhing through it like a serpent kept her magic locked in her.  She was dirty, her nails were cracked and broken and every part of her was sore.  Her mind flittered away again to Merlin kissing her so passionately when he broke out of the Glass Armour.  He hadn’t wanted to go, but she’d cast him away to save him, and now she was hidden from him.  A shadow passed overhead, darkening the ruddy torchlight that surrounded her cell, and she flinched, expecting the crude cage that Sarram had her brought out in whenever he wanted her whipped.  The man’s cruelty was unending, and his delight in her torture sickening.  Yjiss, the cruelly insane druid priestess beside him was a constant source of fear during the beating and whipping sessions.  Her crazed eyes and lust seemed to ignite at the sight of Morgana’s blood, and she had often taken the whip afterwards with her as some sort of sick token.  Her face was twisted and scarred, but the Sarram seemed to take pleasure in her, or at the least, some sick and twisted sense of pride.  Morgana shivered as dirt showered down on her for a moment, followed by another shadow flashing across as though some mammoth huge bird was circling the opening far above her.  The guards seemed to be taking their time, she thought listlessly, and opened her eyes just as dirty boots scraped on the floor in front of her.  She turned her head up wanly and Arthur’s breath rasped in his throat.  Arthur was shaking, but his hand was rock stead as it cupped Morgana’s face and then he hugged her desperately.  Morgana stayed stock still until he leaned back and looked her over, dragging her chained wrists above his head and over his shoulders, holding her onto his back and grabbing the rope about his waist with both hands.  He began to walk up the side of the well, the strength he was displaying frightening her as he simply pulled the both of them up and out of the darkness with pure strength. 

“It’s me, Morgana.  I’m here.”  Morgana began to sob and he pulled harder, climbing up and out of the well with his hands and feet not tiring for a second.  He straddled the edge of the well and gently lowered Morgana down against the stonework.  She whimpered and lifted her arm over her eyes against the glare of the torchlight in the blackness of the night.  Arthur, his limbs still shaking with adrenalin, broke the shackles apart from her legs and wrists with his bare hands.  She stared at him and he shook with energy and grinned maniacally at her.  Behind him, two wyverns incongruously spat at a huge rock wall, which already showed signs of weakening from the chemical onslaught.  There came a great roar and a gold dragon landed in front of her, breathing fire to keep back a disjointed attack by some guardsmen.  Morgana dug her fingernails into her wrist, feeling the pain and somehow comprehending that she wasn’t imagining all of this. 

“The world’s mad,” she whimpered and then her brother’s arms were around her.  Morgana looked up and Arthur, still seeming to be shaking with energy, met her eyes meaningfully, still in the midst of battle fervour. 

“I’ve been told to tell you that Amata has betrayed Camelot.  They promised not to hurt you, and they’ve done more than that.  You’re free of your oath, Morgana.  Hurting Amata will not hurt Camelot.”  Wild hope filled her as he struggled with the bracelet on her arm, and then looked at it in consternation. 

“Binds magic.  Evil druid in the palace,” she quipped.  Arthur pulled his sword out of its sheath and looked about for more guards.  Obligingly, another detachment of soldiers veered around the corner, avoiding the dragon and racing for the huddled siblings.  There were twenty five warriors in the group, and in a matter of seconds, all were bleeding or unconscious.  Arthur’s crazed eyes swept the courtyard for more, but none came.  The Great Dragon whirled and locked eyes with Morgana for a moment before taking to the air.  Arthur nodded and took Morgana’s hand and took off for the courtyard.  There was an explosion and a roar of anger and magic ripped lightning down from the skies about them.  Draconic language was snarled loudly, thundering through the streets and dragonfire began to rain from the sky in the courtyard of the east gate.  Morgana looked at Arthur as he helped her to her feet, absently whirling his sword about him.  “Is that another dragon?”  Arthur shook his head and his panting mouth spread into a berserk grin.

“No.  That’s Merlin.” 

∞₸∞

Though Camelot’s lack of tolerance for magic users began only with Uther’s change of heart at Arthur’s birth, Amata had been a kingdom with a long hatred of the Old Religion.  For generations, they had hunted down and killed not only the magic users, but their parents as well, seeing the bloodlines that produced magic users purged from the land through death or fear-driven exile.  The guardsmen of Amata were renowned across the Five Kingdoms for the fanatical hatred of all things magical and their capabilities in hunting down those with magic and destroying them with vicious efficiency regardless of circumstance.  For the guardsmen of Amata, the eradication of magic was their life’s pursuit, and their dedication to it unfathomable. 

Merlin was the reckoning for every single drop of Old Religion blood ever dropped upon the fields of Amata’s lands.  Guardsmen fought him with righteous justification, but none could begin to match the depth of his rage.  Every single pain that Morgana had undergone cried out for him to strike them down, and he was dangerously close to losing himself to the rushing hatred engulfing him.  His power flowed about him like a whirlwind, dangerously close to destruction.  He was beyond words in his rage, and yet the magic flowed through him.  He was terrifying.  Still they came, and still they were swatted away.  Merlin began to feel as though there was nothing that would stop him, and he could feel the wild madness rushing through him; an almost malicious glee at finally, after all this time, letting himself free with his magic. 

As he swept another group of guards to the side, smashing them away with his will into the buildings he was walking past, a massive blow of force battered into him, momentarily staggering him back as he felt it crushing him beneath an enormous weight.  He lifted the staff and the force broke apart as he stood up, hunting his attacker.  Far atop a tower adjoining the royal castle, in the centre of the city, a skeletal, robed figure raised thin arms and began to rain wizard fire down towards him, sparking off orbs of veering lights in blues and greens and hues of colour Merlin didn’t even have names for.  She screamed at him wordlessly in mad hatred and the guardsmen scrambled back out of the way as the balls began to home in on Merlin and explode at him.  Merlin shielded himself and absorbed the energy of the explosions into his staff, before channelling it back in a huge, conjoined comet straight for the tower and watching the massive white fireball engulf the balcony and smash on through the tower, breaking the ancient stone and toppling it away to the other side, on top of the castle roof.  A tribute to the strength of its construction, some of the tower stood fast, including part of the balcony, and Merlin wasn’t sure if he’d destroyed Yjiss or not, though he suspected she was out of the fight for the moment. 

He turned back away from the tower as a cavalry unit charged around the corner, lances lowered.  Yjiss reappeared, clinging to the edge of the ruined balcony and launching a beam of light at Merlin.  He caught it in the crystals of the staff and fed his will into the rowan wood, pushing back against her onslaught as the cavalry veered towards him.  A shadow swooped over him and dragonfire engulfed the cavalry, billowing back hot air as Kilgharrah beat his wings and landed, swatting at the fragmented unit with his tail and sending them scrambling back for safety.  The Great Dragon looked up and took a deep breath, billowing out a huge breath of flame that engulfed the tower in flame and forcing Yjiss to break off her attack and dive for cover again.  The balcony collapsed as the heat of the dragonfire destroyed its support beams in seconds, exploding some of the weaker rocks and crumbling the tower further.  The guards retreated and a small party of archers charged out from behind some houses, but before Merlin could do anything about them, the two wyverns pounced on them from behind and flung them apart almost joyfully.  After them from the alley trotted Arthur, cradling Morgana’s form. 

Merlin leapt to his feet and went to her, his mind screaming at him that she was hurt.  His eyes were golden with magical rage as he noted the dark bruises around her neck, and her bedraggled, pained appearance.  He shook with a deep, engulfing fury and his knuckles cracked.  Morgana looked up and when her clear green eyes locked with his, he collapsed beside her in relief, dropping the staff.  Morgana slipped from Arthur’s arms and wrapped herself around him, simply holding him and breathing against him, pressing his body against hers as she reassured herself that he was there, and not some dream or torment.  Merlin sobbed against her and squeezed her tightly against him.  Tears ran down the tracks of grime on his face and she shushed him.

“I thought I was too late.  I thought…”  She hushed him with bright, glistening eyes and shook her head. 

“I’m here.  I’m not going anywhere.  I never should have told you to leave.  I never want to tell you to leave again.”  She grabbed his head and stared into his eyes.   “I love you.  I want to be with you.” 

Merlin stared at her and couldn’t stop the tears flowing.  Morgana kissed his wet cheeks and he picked her up with a suddenness that shocked her and kissed her, lifting her up over his head and whirling her around.  Morgana smiled helplessly at him but cried out when he set her down and grabbed her wrists gently.  Merlin looked down and looked at the bracelet that was pulsing, black lines running along her veins from it.  His joyous expression fell from his face and he snarled, grabbing the bracelet with glowing eyes and hands and ripping it apart.  There was a terrible scream of pain from across the other side of the courtyard, and Merlin whirled around, picking up his staff and stepping in front of Morgana protectively.  Arthur drew his sword as the Kingsguard arrived in disciplined unison, preceding the Sarram himself.  Yjiss staggered beside him, clearly rattled by Merlin’s breaking of her bracelet.  Arthur looked up into the sky as the wyverns took flight and watched Kilgharrah look at Merlin urgently. 

“Merlin, we’d better go before I charge them all.  Whatever you’d done… I’m not thinking straight.  I’m trying to hold off but I really need to hit something.”  Merlin turned back to Morgana and put his hand on the side of her face.  Gently she smiled at him, not even caring about the threat of the Kingsguard across the courtyard.  Merlin stared into her eyes, and his gold irises faded to his usual compassionate blue.

“We can flee, and be safe.  Or we can make them pay.  I won’t hold back, if we stay.”  Arthur looked back at them and then at the gathered Kingsguard.  Sarram’s elite, fifty warriors trained to fight and kill magic users.  It was suicide.

“We should leave, Merlin.”  The warlock shook his head stoically. 

“I didn’t ask you, Arthur.  You and I don’t have a say in this.  We haven’t endured what Morgana has.  And if she wants this, I’ll stand beside her and fight with her.”  Hesitatingly, she looked back at the Kingsguard and her eyes flashed not with gold, but with an eager, wild anger, like the Morgana of old.  Then she closed her eyes and looked away.

“We should…  The right thing…”  Again, Merlin shook his head.

“I didn’t ask that, Morgana.  For what they’ve done, _heortlufe_ , if you want to make them pay, I’ll stand by you.”  She looked at him from beneath the dusty mess of her hair, and Merlin kissed her fingertips. 

“This isn’t like you, Merlin.”  He nodded, conceding that. 

“The old me… would have said that as long as we’re all safe, it’s all that matters.  But the new me… I see the world in the greys that it’s painted in.  I’m not a judge.  But I’m not letting anyone else write my life for me anymore, either.  If you want this, I’ll help you.  Do you want to make them pay for their crimes?”  Her eyes hardened and she lifted her chin towards him.

“Yes.”

“This is insane,” murmured Arthur in bewilderment.  Merlin nodded, once, and went to stand up straight again, but Morgana held onto him as she looked at the Kingsguard, who had formed up around them, cutting them off.  Merlin’s eyes didn’t leave hers, but he tilted his head towards Arthur.

“They’ve put to the sword a nation’s worth of magic users, children included, whose only crime was to be born different than them.”  Morgana lowered her eyes and sighed. 

“But we need to be better.  I love that you’re willing to do this for me, Merlin.  I can’t tell you how much.  But I need to…”  She broke off and Arthur drew his sword as the Kingsguard around them settled their shields to the ground with a unified crack, and drew swords. 

“Whatever you need.  I’m here.”  She smiled at him and nodded, and there was real relief in her eyes.

“Then let’s just get out of here.  I just want to go home with you.”  He didn’t leave her eyes until she nodded at him and he returned it, the smile coming back through the grim face as she held him gently.

“Okay.” 

“Done with your goodbyes?”  Sarram stepped forwards, Yjiss crouching like a rabid dog at his side.  Her robes were charred and ripped in some areas.  One sleeve was nearly gone, showing scarred, seamed flesh.  Her face was the same, with the seal of Amata branded onto her cheek in angry, dirty lines.  She circled around at his nod and began to thread her way through the guardsmen, disappearing from sight.  Arthur looked at Merlin, who looked up at Kilgharrah.  The dragon’s attention was on the citadel walls, however, where several huge ballistae were manned and trained on the dragon now that he’d stayed still for some time.  Merlin pointed with his eyes to the right and left and Morgana casually turned her head, spotting the ballistae.  She nodded slowly, almost nonchalantly, and opened her hands, ready.  Merlin turned back around and nodded to Arthur.

“We got what we came for.  No one else needs to die.”  The Sarram scoffed with a horridly malicious laugh. 

“Little prince, your sister is a witch, and your little friend there is a wizard.  By that measure alone, they have to die.  Magic is against the law with execution the only punishment; here just as it is in Camelot.”  Arthur turned his head, searching for Yjiss, but not finding her anywhere.

“Powerful words for a man with a druid for a pet.  Like my father, you don’t seem adverse to using magic when you want to.”  The Sarram shrugged and drew his sword.  At that signal, the Kingsguard all changed their stance and began to advance upon them. 

“I use whatever tools I need to, boy.  That’s the difference between you and I.  I’m a king.  You’re just a child.  I’d say you’ll understand one day, but you’re trespassing and you’ve aligned yourself with magic users.  You won’t have a “one day.”  He threw his sword in the air.  “Kingsguard!”

“ ** _Forbærnan!_** ”  At the call, Merlin and Morgana stood up, back to back with their hands outstretched and pointing at the four ballistae.  Streams of fire engulfed all four simultaneously and exploded the wooden contraptions, and their threat.  Undaunted, the Kingsguard marched inwards, keeping their shields interlocked as they pressed inwards.  Kilgharrah launched himself upwards and sprayed dragonfire over those closest to him, exposing a hole that Morgana began dragging Merlin towards.  A triumphant chant rose in volume and they turned as Yjiss threw a blue ball of energy at them from behind the cover of the guardsmen closest to the gate.  Arthur cried out and lurched to the side, swinging his sword with all his might against the bright blue ball of light that flew towards the huddled magic users and exploding it.  Energy rushed out and pushed Merlin back over Morgana, even as he rolled and protected her with his body.  Arthur was slumped to the ground with his armour smoking and torn asunder around him and the Kingsguard scattered from the strength of the explosion, their discipline broken only by the power of the magic unleashed.  Yjiss staggered forwards and began to chant again as Merlin got to his feet.

Her chant faltered as he advanced, his staff gone but his hands and eyes glowing.  She sped up her chant and threw her arms out, but Merlin’s hand moved out, a ward shimmering around his palm as he deflected it back into the regrouping Kingsguard, scattering them again.  Again and again she called out, shriller and shriller as again and again he deflected her assaults.  Her magic battered at him as she began to lose control, but he was coldly contemptuous.  He didn’t even bother speaking as he ripped her from her feet with a wave of his hand and smashed her into the ground.  She coughed and blinked in horror even as he advanced on her.  She raised her hands again and he pulled down with both of his, pinning her to the ground with his will.  He stared at her as she gibbered at him in fear.  She was well and truly mad; her mind broken by the Sarram so thoroughly that she’d never again know who she was.  The pain she’d inflicted on Freya and Morgana could yield only one consequence.   

“You’re sick.  I don’t know if I can help you.  Gods help me, I don’t even know if I should try.”  She began to babble incoherently at him and giggle, and Merlin found a great swell of pity rising up in him.  She was twisted and scarred.  She raged impotently at him in one breath and then cried at him the next.  Suddenly disgusted with himself, Merlin lowered his hand, tears beginning to fall.  He couldn’t do it.  Soft skin touched his shaking hand and Morgana laid her hands on his upper arm and kissed the top of his shoulder as he looked at Yjiss. 

“If we do, we’re no better than him.  Or her, for that matter.”  Merlin looked at his clenched hand, which held the mad druid down in the dirt. 

“I promised Freya.  And after what she did to you, she deserves it.  But…  And if we don’t…?  Then we’re letting everything she’ll ever do from here on out rest on our shoulders.”  Morgana’s eyes drew him to her as she smiled at him with soft compassion.   

“Can you kill her, really, and live with that?”  He shook his head for a moment before looking to the sky, and the wyverns that swooped on the guardsmen manning the battlements of the citadel and Kilgharrah, who kept diving, scattering the Kingsguard trying to reform.  Arthur was on his feet again, somehow, looking as though he were missing half his armour.  His sword arm was beautiful in motion, as he charged into the pockets of the Kingsguard that were reforming and scattering them with his crazed power.   

“I can live with anything you can.”  She touched his face and her features were sad but determined.

“I won’t let you be that person, Merlin.  I was, for far too long.  I’ve had enough of killing.”  He nodded, but his eyes went back to Yjiss, who was snapping and snarling at the air as though to bite them.

“We can’t let her continue doing what she was doing.”  Morgana stepped back, still holding his hand and lifting it to her lips and then pushing it up to the side of her face.  Merlin nodded and released his grip on the druid, who thrashed in the dirt for a moment before scrambling to her feet, spittle falling from her mouth in her insane rage. 

“Then I’ll set her free from Amata forever.”  Recalling the image of Kilgharrah darting across the cloud tops, Merlin reached deeply into his dragonlord powers.  Deeper than ever before, he called up the powers and began to speak in the dragon tongue, resonating a tone so obscurely musical that it seemed to come from the very earth itself.  His hands spread wide and Yjiss began to scream as she was lifted from the ground and began to spin.  Merlin closed his eyes and in his mind’s eye, watched a bird dart quicker than possible over a river that sparkled with the midday sun on tiny waves as the clear water flooded over smooth pebbles.  Far away, deep in a cavern beneath the Fisher King’s palace, the dragon eggs began to vibrate as unbidden, yet somehow part of the magic, their names came to him in that moment of transmutation.

“ _Hryniatula Lummunionos Trillgarrhro_!”  Three eggs cracked as the words called to them, naming them and empowering them to awaken.  Back over the skies of Amata, Kilgharrah roared in approval and joy as he felt his kin begin to stir.  Merlin’s power washed over them all and flowed back into Yjiss, who screamed in agony until that scream became a bird’s cry.  She shrunk and twirled in the air until her arms sprouted feathers even as they shrank, showing beautiful blues and oranges of burnt sunsets as she took flight.  She flew out and away towards the forest and Merlin stared in wonder as she spun joyously in the air.  With a flick of deep turquoise from the underside of her wing to him, she was gone.  Morgana whirled around, covering his back and throwing her will out, smashing aside a group of charging Kingsguard and reminding Merlin that there was still a battle to be fought.

But there were more men on the ground than standing, and the Sarram stalked forwards, gleefully showing Morgana and Merlin a charm on his cloak that glowed when they tried to cast him aside with magic.  Somehow it warded the Sarram from them and left them defenceless, given that neither of them held weapons.  The Sarram sneered at them and hefted his sword, even as a figure moved behind him, battering the blade away when he could as easily have attacked.

Arthur tilted his sword in deference to the Sarram, who snarled and whirled, freeing his cloak.  What followed was some of the finest swordsmanship the Five Kingdoms had ever seen.  It was such an astonishing display that the Kingsguard retreated in wonder.  The Sarram’s skill with a blade was a legendary as Arthur’s, however the Sarram had strength and experience that Arthur did not.  But Merlin’s spell had unleashed his potential and linked his will with his capabilities.  Sarram was perfectly trained and at the peak of his skills.  Arthur was magical.  He moved with his entire body, edging just enough out of the way and at times, the smile on his face was as distracting as the dance he performed around the warrior’s blade.  Sarram grew enraged and began to lose his concentration as Arthur spun and edged his blade again and again, turning the metal just enough to throw it wide of his body.  Finally the Sarram abandoned finesse for favour of brute strength and began hacking at Arthur, forcing him back out of reach, or so it seemed.  Arthur feinted forward and the Sarram swung, overextending himself.  Arthur smashed his blade aside and flipped his sword around the Sarram’s blade, catching it hilt first and sliding it up behind the Sarram’s head with a vicious slice into the thick folds of his neck.  Arthur gripped his blade with one gloved hand and the other on his handle and jerked the blade against the Sarram.  The older man flinched at the unconventional move and fell to his knees.  His nerveless hand dropped his sword and Arthur pivoted, smashing his blade down into the neck crease of the armour with all his might.  The Sarram jerked again, staring at Arthur in complete confusion as Arthur kicked him off the blade and saluted his felled enemy with a flick of his blood covered sword. 

Arthur looked around, and the Kingsguard shied away, with some, then more throwing their swords down.  They edged away from the trio in surrender, and Arthur picked up the Sarram’s cloak, cleaning his sword and then respectfully covering the man’s body.  Morgana held onto Merlin’s hand and he put his chin on top of her head as Arthur sheathed his sword and waved to Kilgharrah, who circled to land in the courtyard again. 

“Take me home, Merlin.”

∞₸∞

The Camelot grass felt good underfoot as the three of them waved goodbye to the wyverns and Kilgharrah.  The Great Dragon had been surprised that Merlin could awaken the dragons without being in their presence.  Surprised and pleased.  Merlin had promised to reunite with them in a year to awaken more, slowly and carefully so as not to overwhelm the old lizard with hundreds of his child-kin at a time, though Merlin had enjoyed the thought.  Arthur looked up, seeing the road to Camelot Castle clearly.  He turned regretfully to the two sorcerers. 

“Where will you go?”  Morgana, nestled in Merlin’s arm as she nearly always had been since they left Amata, promptly jerked her head down the path.

“Ealdor.  To start.  Maybe to stay?”  She looked at Merlin, who shrugged, unconcerned.  “I want to meet Hunith, officially.”  She blushed when she said that, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Officially… right.”  She grinned at him and reached out to hit his arm, which he instantly held in mocking pain.  He straightened after a moment and looked at the dark haired warlock he’d known for years.   “Merlin… You’ll always have a home in Camelot.  Things are difficult right now,” he conceded.  “But you’ll always have a friend there.”  Merlin’s face didn’t change, but he nodded slowly.

“I know.  Tell Gwen we’ll be thinking of her.”  Morgana smiled and Arthur shook his head; his face also straight but with amusement clear in his eyes.   

“I meant me, idiot. Gwen only likes you because Morgana likes you.  Don’t you understand anything about women yet?”  Merlin looked down at Morgana, nestled in the crook of his arm and shrugged, again unconcerned. 

“I only need to understand one.”  She smiled at him softly and Arthur scoffed but grinned as he hugged Morgana. 

“Look, try to get word to me every now and again.  Let me know you’re alright.”  He shrugged, echoing Merlin’s lack of concern.  “Gwen would worry.” 

“I’ll send letters,” Morgana promised, before she paused.  “For Gwen’s sake.” She added.

“I guess this is it,” Arthur turned to Merlin and held out his hand.  Merlin shook it but tilted his head in disagreement.

“No, not forever.  Things aren’t over yet, Arthur.  We still have a lot of things to get done.”  Arthur snorted.

“That’s cryptic.  When are these things going to happen?”  Merlin let go and put his arms around Morgana’s shoulders, pulling her in close to him.  She leaned back happily and her hand dropped to his leg.

“We have some time.”  The prince nodded in acceptance and hesitated.

“Hey, Merlin?”

“Hmm?”  Arthur took a breath and his words tumbled out uncomfortably.

“You’re my best friend.  If I never thank you for everything else you’ve done, I want you to know that I…  Our friendship means more to me than I’ll ever say.”  Touched, Merlin smiled and bowed his head.

“I love you too, Arthur,” he said wryly.  Arthur’s face screwed up.

“God, you’re such a girl.”  They shared an old smile as Arthur turned and headed back down the hill towards Camelot.  He turned and waved as he moved out of sight over the top of the hill, and they waved back.  Morgana sighed as she grabbed Merlin’s hand and kissed him and then kissed him again far more thoroughly.  Both their cheeks were flushed as they pulled apart, and Merlin’s grin was adorably pleased.  There was a slight breeze coming in, wild and chill but somehow still bracing.  Merlin squeezed her hand in his and then turned back down the road to Ealdor.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

* * *

* * *

 

EPILOGUE

Winters Later

“Sire?  My Queen?”  Sir Leon strode into the royal apartments that had been Arthur’s old rooms.  They had been rearranged following Uther’s passing, and were being prepared as a royal nursery by the Queen herself, if only as a hobby.  Just in case.  Stubbornly, Arthur kept his desk in there, if only because he had reasoned to Gwen that he had always done his paperwork there and that it didn’t feel right doing it in another room.  Gwen smiled reasonably and kissed him every time he said it and reassured him that he would see his children as much as he wished.  Arthur silently wondered how the entire kingdom supposedly respected and revered him, and yet his wife thought he was funny.

“Leon.  What is it?”  It wasn’t that he was irritated, but the knight’s timing was annoying at best.  There were few times in which he could share some quality time with his wife as she happily hummed about the room, but this was his first time in nearly three weeks.  It wasn’t the passionate lovemaking he adored so much, as it was just the chance to spend some time with her.  But if anyone asked, of course, it was the lovemaking.  Arthur frowned.  He was spending too much time with Gwaine. Leon bowed perfunctorily, a huge grin on his face. 

“There’s a family here, seeking audience with the king and queen.”  Arthur concealed his irritation. 

“Oh?”  Naturally of course.  He looked at Gwen, who smiled at Leon as she came into the larger room, her hands full of pillows of different, wildly clashing colours and sat down at a sitting table, spreading the pillows out and staring at them in consternation.  “The first afternoon in three weeks that we get to spend together… what are you grinning at, Leon?  Who are they?”  The bearded knight uncharacteristically shrugged, playing it down for all he was worth. 

“Oh, a family.  Judging from just the clothes and their belongings, they’re apothecaries or herbalists.  I’ve sent for Gaius, I’m sure he’ll want to speak with them.”  Arthur frowned. 

“How forward of you.”  There was a bland warning in his tone, but Leon bowed again.   

“In this instance, Sire, I’m almost certain it won’t be in vain.”  Arthur stood up and sighed. 

“Very well, we’ll meet them in the…”  There was a squeal of high pitched laughter and two children crashed through the doors in a play fight and a cowled, visibly pregnant woman slipped into the room, reaching for them in frustration.  Gwen gave a squeal of delight and the woman threw back her hood and ran to her, Morgana throwing her arms around her friend and laughing in delight.  Merlin came through the door after them, thanking Leon and the guard.  His angular chin and sharp cheekbones were softened by a thick beard of dark hair that was split by his grin. 

Gwen and Morgana were throwing decorum out the window as they embraced, holding hands and chattering brightly.  Arthur clapped Merlin’s wrist in a firm grip and shook his hand with a huge grin. 

  
“It’s been a while, my friend.  I’m glad you could come.”  Merlin grinned as the boys began to explore the room, looking at the suits of armour that still stood silently guarding this side of the room.  To Arthur’s amusement, they looked only once at Gwen’s side, then rolled their eyes at one another and started looking for more weapons and armour. 

“That it has, Arthur.”  The older of the two boys glanced down, and seeing his brother was completely caught up in staring at the menacing metal cowl, stepped back and slapped his brother on the back of the head, then darted away towards his mother.  The younger whirled around and took off after him, still holding his head.  The two boys squealed at one another and caught up with their mother’s skirts and Gwen shook her head in wonder. 

“Gorlen!  Balin! If you two don’t calm down there’ll be no more honey cakes from grandma’s!”  The boys gasped in shock as Merlin covered his smile.  Morgana glared at him and he turned sternly to the boys, who were still staring at their mother in horror. 

“Lads.”  The boys obediently shifted to attention at their father’s side.  Arthur looked them over as they looked up at him.  The younger had Morgana’s green eyes, and the older his father’s blue.  “You remember the stories about the once and future king?”

“Yes Da.”  Like miniature soldiers, they were almost standing at parade rest.

“I want you to meet your Uncle Arthur.  Once and Future King of Albion.”  The youngest gave an ungainly bow, showing his mother’s influence in courtly manners. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Majesty Arthur.”  His brother leaned in close and whispered loudly enough for Gwen and Morgana to hear on the other side of the room.

“It’s “your majesty.”  Gorlen corrected.

“I don’t have a majesty.”  Balin shook his head in confusion at his brother.  “Why is it mine?”

“You’re supposed to call him your majesty.”  Gwen laughed out loud and Gorlen looked at her shyly as she winked at him.  Balin, still trying to figure out what Gorlen was talking about, frowned.

“What’s my majesty called then?”  Still lost, he looked up at his father, who nodded to Arthur.  The king looked at the boys seriously, his face stern. 

“My name is Arthur.  Uncle, to you two.”  Their eyes went wide and they looked back to him with sudden interest.  Arthur kneeled down and looked back at Gwen.  “See that pretty girl?” Gorlen nodded while Balin sniffed curiously.

“Is she a princess?”  Arthur shook his head sadly.

“She’s got skin like chocolate… she’s really pretty.” Gorlen murmured in wonder.  Arthur nodded sagely.

“She’s a queen.  She also happens to be the most beautiful women in the land.”  Balin scoffed.

“That’s because ma lives in another kingdom.”  He looked up at his dad and winked broadly.  Merlin winked back.  Morgana gave a soft happy whine until she broke off and winced in discomfort. 

“She’s kicking a lot more,” she explained to Gwen, who flushed and suddenly clasped her twitching hands in front of her.  Morgana’s eyes narrowed for a split second before she matter-of-factly grabbed Gwen’s hand and guided her to the spot.  Gwen’s eyes had a faraway look in them for a moment before Morgana flinched again and Gwen’s eyes widened. 

“I could feel that!”  Morgana rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll swap you.  Anytime.”  Gwen put her own hands back on her belly and spread them wide, covering the front of her dress under her breasts.

“Won’t be long, and you won’t have to,” she blushed.  Morgana’s eyes widened.

“You’re with child?”  Merlin’s eyes widened and went to Arthur’s who smiled and nodded. 

“Just these last two moons.  What have you thought about names?”  Morgana sat down in a chair by the table and began to pick at the fruit in the centre bowl.  She also poured a glass of water and sipped at it apologetically.   Merlin smiled at her fondly.

“It’s been two hours since we stopped.  She’s had to pee and eat three times.”  Arthur grinned over the heads of the boys, who were fidgeting restlessly at attention.  Morgana glared at him again, but her smile came back as he stared at her lovingly.  “Gavaine if it’s a boy, which it will be, given the odds.  I was thinking Morgaun if it’s a girl, like the last two times were going to be.  But it’s not going to be a girl, so I don’t see why you persist in this fruitless argument.”  Morgana rolled her eyes as she drank slowly.

“Merlin, be reasonable.  It’s going to be a girl.  And we’re naming her Gwendelyn.”  Merlin cocked an eyebrow at her and his mouth smirked.  Morgana fought her smile as he stepped closer. 

“Morgaun,” he said, his voice dropping low.  Morgana blushed, but she smirked back at him and jutted her chin forwards.

“Gwendelyn.”  They smirked at each other in confidence, but as Merlin got closer, Morgana’s cheeks grew flushed. 

“Morgaun,” she asserted softly, intimately.

“Gwendelyn,” he breathed at her as he came within reach.

“Morg…”  He cut her off with a kiss and she melted against him, kissing him softly.  It was an incredibly intimate kiss, and Merlin licked his lips when they parted, tasting apple juice from the fruit she’d eaten.

“Okay, Gwendelyn.”  She bit her bottom lip against her smile and couldn’t help the small laugh of happiness.  Her gaze shifted to Gwen, whose eyes were glistening.  She cleared her throat and Morgana put a hand on her wrist.  They didn’t need words.  They were family.

“Works every time.” She nodded to Merlin, who grinned at her.  Gwen cleared her throat. 

“You argue so that he kisses you?” she queried, not looking at Arthur.  Morgana smirked at Merlin who lifted an eyebrow at her in warning.

“Gods no.  I argue so that I can kiss _him_.”  Gwen laughed.

“Three children aren’t enough?”  Morgana blushed then and didn’t meet Merlin’s eyes or his smile.

“It’s not the children; it’s the making of the children that I can’t get enough of.”  There was a metallic bang and the three of them turned.

“I’m in the room!” objected Arthur.  He was deftly wielding a candlestick against Gorlen who was charging after him with glee while holding Balin in his other arm. Morgana shook her head in wonder.

“I looked away from three seconds.  How can you get swept up in this chaos so quickly?” 

“It’s a gift,” he shrugged, even as he winced as Gorlen ducked under his legs and slapped his candlestick on the king’s soft booted foot.  “Unsporting!”  Merlin came around and hugged Gwen as the door opened, admitting Leon who gently ushered a red robed figure into the room.  A frail voice cried out and Gaius came over to the table, his arms wide as he enveloped Merlin in a hug.  There were several moist eyes as the old man held the boy he’d raised like a son.  Morgana twisted and levered herself up out of the chair and waddled over to hug Gaius as well, who exclaimed wordless happiness and gently touched her belly in happy wonder. Merlin wiped his eyes and put a hand on Morgana’s shoulder. 

“Uh, is there any chance we could find some quarters?”  Gwen wiped her own eyes and tutted in disapproval at him. 

“Morgana’s quarters are just as she left them.  I’ll get two beds sent up for the boys.”  Morgana rolled her eyes. 

“You’ll probably only need one.  They’re best friends, and they’re very close.  They never fight, actually.  Not really.  It’s a wonder of the modern age.”  Arthur came over, sans nephews who had discovered the mounds of cushions in the other room and were scrumptiously building a cushion cave out of sight.

“It’s not the only one.”  Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Dragons have been spotted in increasing numbers all along the Wildlands,” Gaius clarified.  He looked at Merlin knowingly, and the dragonlord smiled thinly.

“Wildlands?”

“The former perilous lands,” the physician continued.  “It’s overgrown and wild, but filled with game and thick forests.  No curse there anymore.”  A squeal of excitement came from the other room as Balin climbed up onto the windowsill and ambushed his brother with a wild leap, cushion in hand. Instead of softening the blow, it acted as a springboard, launching them in opposite directions.  Luckily, the cushions were scattered apart enough that neither was hurt, but the game was afoot and the boys armed themselves for a pillow fight epic enough for the history books.

“Boys!” Morgana scolded, and Gorlen paused mid-swing to look up at his mother.  The pillow’s inertia, however, had no such parental control, and continued on its way, spinning him around and dragging him to the floor.  Balin giggled and swung his pillow, hitting his brother squarely in the back of the head.  Merlin raised his head and cleared his throat meaningfully.  Both boys petulantly sat where they were on the ground and stared at their feet.  Morgana sighed in exasperation, looking at Gaius in consternation. 

“They always do exactly what he tells them, when he tells them!  Bloody man is infuriating!”  The old physician looked at her fondly as Merlin innocently held his hands up.

“Delegation of authority, love.  They do what I tell them because I do what you tell me.”  Morgana crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

“That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, Merlin Balinson!”  He sighed and shook his head as he grabbed her hands and leaned down towards them.

“Neither does the most beautiful soul in all the world falling for me.  But If I can take that on faith and just love you, then I hope you can do the same.”  Her eyes grew wild as she helplessly glared at him, her mouth twitching up at the corners.

“You stop that,” she demanded, even as she smiled as he kissed her palms.  “I’m trying to be mad at you!”  Merlin looked at her directly and she blushed, looking about them at the others as her pale cheeks coloured. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly.  “I’ll make it up to you later.”   

“Okay,” she offered, instantly mollified.  Her ears burned bright red and Gwen laughed as Gaius pursed his lips. Merlin ignored the king’s wide eyes as he turned back to him. 

“So we got the summons?” he began, but Arthur shook his head suddenly.    

“Get settled.  Then I’ll meet you in the west tower?”  The sorcerer bowed his head.

“As you wish.”  The party left then, heading up the stairs with Gaius and Morgana both struggling, even as Gwen and Merlin smiled at one another and rolled their eyes patiently.  When they reached Morgana’s quarters, Gwen sent a page to find them a spare bed and more covers.  Hugging Morgana and giving Merlin a chaste kiss on the cheek, Gwen then helped Gaius back down the stairs after Merlin and Morgana promised to come to his quarters for dinner before they left again.  Merlin thanked the page that came back moments later with their trunks and told him that their horse and carriage had been stowed away in the royal stables and would be cared for.  Merlin began to unpack the trunk as Morgana sat in a chair by the window and rubbed her belly absently.   

“I never thought I’d sit in this room again,” she murmured as Merlin unpacked the boys wooden toys that he’d made for them.  He hung up her clothes and folded his into the drawers behind the privacy screen.  “Ealdor is nice and I love our little house.  But Camelot will always be home, in some way.  And yet, with your mum, and the house and the Herbiary…  I just… I guess I’ll always think of Camelot as where I’ve come from.”

“I never asked, is there a reason this was your room, or is it just where it happened to be?”  She stirred and smiled at him brightly.  Merlin stared as he always did, with that little lost smile on his face that she knew meant he was thinking about how lucky he was.  She tilted her head and smiled at him intimately.  

“Actually, it is.  On clear days, I can see the valley where Gorlois is buried.  I spent so long thinking he was my father, and I loved him as such, that it mattered when I was younger.”  Merlin plumped up the cushions on the bed as the boys began to play quietly.  It had been a big day, and both of them were very tired.  Normally this would have meant Merlin would have to step in and stop them from getting too boisterous, but even the boys had their limits.  Balin was already falling asleep with one hand wrapped around the wooden dragon he always loved.  Gorlen yawned and gently cleared a space off the bed and laid down beside his brother.  Merlin walked past and covered them, kissing them both on the head and telling them that they loved them. Morgana watched with adoring eyes and he pulled a bottle of oil out of his pocket and held it up to show her.  Her eyes widened in sudden pleasure and she held out a hand, which Merlin gently used to help her out of the chair as he guided her to bed. The bottle was a dark brown and filled with rose petals floating in it the amber liquid. 

“You brought it,” she smiled at him as he shrugged matter-of-factly. 

“You enjoy it.”  Morgana sat down on the bed and sat forward as Merlin eased off his boots and sat behind her.  She laid back against him and sighed in contentment, closing her eyes as she ran her fingertips over her belly again. 

“I could have lived without it, Merlin.”  Behind her, he smiled artfully.

“Ah, but I don’t want you to have to.”  He poured the oil into his palms and began to massage it into her scalp.  Morgana closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest, slinking low as his fingers ran across her scalp soothingly.  After a moment he stopped and leaned forward to kiss her.  She smiled against his lips and his massage resumed. 

“I really got lucky with you, didn’t I?” 

“At least thrice,” he agreed, looking at their boys and her stomach with a beatific smile.  She scoffed with a smile and nestled in deeper, enjoying his hands in her hair as he worked the oil into the black strands.  Morgana gave soft moans of pleasure as he tilted her head up, working his hands up under her neck and onto the curve of her shoulders.  Morgana rolled over onto her side as he gently tilted her, getting better leverage on her shoulders and working down her body with concentric circles of his hands.  He spread his kneading fingers over her back and slowly worked down, until he lingered on her derriere.  Morgana sleepily opened one eye and rolled over, looking at his innocent face pointedly.  Merlin shrugged.

“But it’s so amazing!” he complained, and she grinned at him. 

“Get out of here, you scoundrel.  Go and see the king.  Your family will wait for you here, where we can all get some sleep.”  Merlin grinned foolishly wide and she frowned at him in confusion.  Again he shrugged. 

“I just… love it when you say that.  Our family.”  Morgana rolled over ponderously and reached out to him.  Merlin sank to his knees beside the bed and cradled her in his arms for a moment before he kissed her.  It was a slow kiss, slower and more intimate than before.  Merlin lurched forwards as Morgana pulled him closer and bit his lip playfully. 

“Get out of here, you knave.  I love the hell out of you, and I’m so yours that I can’t even explain it.  I might look like a whale, but if any woman out there looks at you and smiles in more than a friendly fashion, I’ll rip her into a billion pieces and use the bits as wyvern bait.”  He laughed softly as Morgana kissed him again and pushed him away from her with a sigh. 

“Get some sleep, dream girl.  I’ll be back soon.”  She rolled over with a sigh and settled into the bed as he pulled on some fresh clothes and quietly opened the door. “I love you so much.  All of you.  So very, VERY much.”

“Merlin?”  Her sleepy voice barely carried and neither of the boys stirred.  The afternoon sun shone against the heavy drapes that covered half the room and the light showed tiny flecks of dust dancing about.

“Yes, love?” 

“I love it when you tell me that.”  He smiled as he closed the door quietly behind him.

∞₸∞

“Dragons in the forests.  Druids on the move, now more than ever.   A lot’s going on, Merlin.”  The west tower had long been forgotten in the Camelot planning committee.  Enough so that it was locked up and had been since Uther’s grandfather had been thrown from the top window by some political dissidents.  Though he’d made quite an impact in the stables far below, the tower had been shut up and locked up.  Merlin had never been there before, until Arthur had set a small table up with some aged wine against the backdrop of the afternoon sun.  They were alone in the room, which was something of a surprise, and an honour.  When Merlin had bowed, Arthur had thrown a napkin at him and admonished him, saying they were family and he was only King in an official capacity.  Merlin toyed with the stem of his glass and sat in the window.  There was a breeze enough to air the room out somewhat but its musty dankness still made him want to sneeze.  It was beautiful, but needed a scrubbing.  Thankfully, Merlin mused, that was no longer his role.

“The druids are moving because the seasons are changing.  Magical power is growing.  I wouldn’t want to speak out of turn, but I’d assume it has something to do with the peace that’s growing.  And the dragons.”  Arthur nodded and took that in.  He pushed the wine glass around the table and fidgeted before finally looking at his friend.  

“I need you here, Merlin.  I need you talking to the druids.”  Merlin leaned back, taking in the afternoon sun with his eyes closed.  He scratched his beard and pursed his lips in thought.

“ _You_ could talk to them.”  Arthur nodded quickly.  

“I can.  I have.  They’ve grown… reticent.  There haven’t been any incidents, but it’s like the whole druid nation is waiting for something.”  Merlin opened his eyes and stared at Arthur before looking back out the window over the valley and all of Camelot.   

“They’re waiting for Emerys.”  Arthur smiled triumphantly, but held his excitement in check.  Merlin rolled his eyes as his friend tried to be clever.

“Isn’t that you?” 

“Only from a certain point of view.  Some could say it’s you.  If you wanted to think of it that way.  Emerys is the man fated to lead the druid people into a new age.”  Stubbornly, Arthur lifted a hand, and tapped his index finger pointedly.

“When Agravaine died, and you banished Morgause’s spirit.  She called you Emerys.”  Merlin gave a low laugh and turned away from the view, staring at Arthur in consternation.

“How come you can’t remember an anniversary but you can remember that?”  Arthur got up out of the chair and swirled his wine goblet around, staring into it.  He put it down firmly and appealed to Merlin openly.

“This is serious, Merlin.  Please, old friend.  I need you here.  I need your wisdom.  I don’t know how to deal with them.  This, this whole tower?  I come up here sometimes to think.  Get away from it all because I fear I’m treating the druids like my father did, as outcasts.  That I’m driving them away.  Come back here and you can have this whole tower as your own.  Bring your mum, I don’t care, I’ll put up the whole family, of course.  I don’t want to make my father’s mistakes.”  Merlin stared at him for a moment and then nodded. 

“You said once that I was your friend.”

“My best friend,” Arthur clarified.  Merlin nodded again, decisively.

“I’ll talk it over with Morgana.  We’re a family now.”  Arthur looked relieved and nodded, satisfied.  They grew quiet for a moment until Arthur tentatively touched his wine again.  

“Of course….  I wanted to ask, too… with both you and Morgana… Are your sons…?”

“Sorcerers?  No.  But my daughter is.” 

“You know it’s going to be a girl?”  Merlin nodded.  Arthur thought back to the mock argument in the sitting room.  It was something he understood now that he was married.  He tilted his goblet to Merlin in salute.  He hesitated for a moment.  “What’s it like?” 

“Terrifying.  Rules and laws don’t mean anything anymore.  It all depends on those little lives.  If anything threatened them, I’d destroy until the dust itself lived in fear.  I have to constantly remind myself that they will grow and be in pain and experience things I’d rather they didn’t.  Parenthood… means the world looks different.  The tides and stars may not revolve around those little humans, but I certainly do.  If that wasn’t enough, there’s Morgana too.”  Arthur was nodding, until the last words, and then he frowned.

“What do you mean?”  Merlin thought for a moment, considering how to put it. 

“I’ve found out what true love means, Arthur.  It means a willingness to go further, do the undoable, all for the sake of her.  I love her so much, Arthur.  She’s everything to me.”  They shared a knowing smile and Arthur sat back in the chair.  For a moment, it wasn’t a king and his advisor.  It was two friends talking things over.  Arthur had missed this.  Having a friend.   

“At least in the regard, I know how you feel.  I’d give up my crown for my Gwen.  In a heartbeat.”  Merlin smiled, happy for him, and Arthur raised his glass and drank from it in salute, with Merlin doing the same. 

“I’ll talk it over with her,” he promised as they put the wine down again.  Arthur nodded, satisfied.  They grew silent for several heartbeats, just sitting there.  Merlin excused himself as Arthur put his feet up on the table.  He didn’t want to be away from Morgana and the boys for too long. 

“Merlin?”  He paused at the staircase door and looked back at Arthur.  The king sat framed in sunlight, almost looking luminescent.  Merlin could almost see the destiny swirling around him.  He’d said once they had work to do, and that still rang true.  But now, they were ready for it. 

“It’s good to have you back.”  Merlin smiled as Arthur stared out over Camelot through the window. 

“It’s good to be back.”

“Goodnight, Lord Emerys.”  Merlin bowed low to the sunlight suffused king.

“Goodnight, My King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd also like to say sorry for all those who started reading this as a Cinderalla tale... it totally got away from me and took on a life of it's own. Still, here's hoping you enjoyed it, and as per usual, feel free to comment to your heart's content. I'm hoping to maybe one day actually do a Cindarella tale much closer to the original. Like actually anything like it, to be honest, considering how this is not at all the way it was supposed to be. But that's where they take us, those rascal characters.   
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
